Against The Grain
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: A leak within the FBI places the life of a crucial witness at risk. Fornell asks the one person he trusts for help - and that's when things really get complicated. Jibbs AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N - so, its another Jibbs AU, brought to you by Morgan this time. It does stem from an idea that was bouncing around my head pre JD - about Gibbs on protection duty, but it found its way into an AU instead. Thanks to Ellie for helping me to work out how this Jen and Gibbs might get along.

Disclaimer: regrettably the characters aren't mine.

**Against the Grain**

Gibbs head-slapped DiNozzo when he emerged from the elevator to find Fornell sitting at his desk and his team just sitting around looking at him.

"What have I told you?"

"Sorry boss…"

"My loyal St Bernard," he muttered under his breath.

Fornell watched the by-play without his normal amusement, which meant this definitely wasn't a social call. "Something I need to discuss," he said.

"Conference room?" Gibbs suggested and got a tight nod in response.

"Thanks for making me feel so welcome," Fornell tossed out to DiNozzo as he passed.

Gibbs leaned back against the wall of the stalled elevator, his staring match with Fornell not telling him much. "What's going on Tobias?"

"I need your help." He didn't blink at that, because he recognised it was probably killing the man to stand here and admit as much to him. "I have a witness due to testify next week against the favourite son of a Russian mob leader. She's a good witness – clear, honest – if she testifies we have him. They've already tried to kill her twice."

"So take her into protective custody."

"Already have – the safe-house was shot up last night." Gibbs sucked in a breath.

"You have a leak,"

"I know – I'll take care of it, but in the meantime this woman is my responsibility – I have the whole FBI at my disposal and I'm here asking you for a favour – what does that tell you?"

Gibbs shrugged, not exactly sure himself, and took a sip of his coffee. "I need you to keep her alive for long enough to testify. I need you to take her somewhere and disappear."

"I have a case,"

"Your team said it was wrapped up,"

"I have a team – who apparently need a lot of supervision."

"Put DiNozzo in charge, it's four days – how much damage can he do?"

"I don't want to find out."

"You going to make me say 'please' Jethro?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow and regarded his companion over the top of his coffee cup.

"She get to you Tobias, this woman?"

"Maybe," Fornell sighed, "more than maybe. She's scared – but she saw Grigory Orloff commit murder and she says she wants to tell the truth. We haven't been able to find a family, or anyone who even knew the victim. She was just a kid, we think straight off the plane from Russia and no one wants to help. But this woman wants to stand up for her and I need to make sure doing the right thing doesn't get her killed." Gibbs was surprised, this wasn't like Fornell; the leak close to him, the woman – he was rattled. "You going to help me – or stand on the sidelines and drink coffee?"

Gibbs tilted his head and didn't reply. He did set the lift moving again – stalking back out into the bullpen as soon as the elevator doors opened. "Get the Director to sign off on it," he said over his shoulder "and then we'll take over."

"Not your team," Fornell said, "just you." Gibbs pointed up the stairs towards the Director's office – refusing to do, or say anything until his involvement had been agreed.

"Boss, what's going on?" DiNozzo asked as Fornell headed up the stairs.

"Maybe nothing." But it wasn't nothing.

"We're all set," Fornell said hurrying down the stairs a few minutes later. "We're moving her now."

"When's the court date?"

"9am on the 27th." Gibbs looked over at his team; DiNozzo was watching his every move – curiosity written all over his face. The other two were masking it a little better – but he knew they wanted to find out what was happening just as badly. Before he could say anything Fornell's cell phone rang.

"What?" He listened for a moment and then swore, "where are you?" He closed his phone, presumably after having received an answer to that question. "The car's picked up a tail," he said. "You want to meet your charge right now?"

"Do I have a choice? DiNozzo, David – with me." As they grabbed their guns he turned to the remaining member of his team. "McGee – I need a car, a car without Federal plates and tracking devices and a couple of those, disposable cell phones – the ones you can't trace. Talk to the Director – he'll sign it off – and I'll need money as well, but nothing that can be traced back here. You got all that?"

"Yes boss – how long?"

"An hour," McGee's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Bring it all here," Gibbs scribbled on a piece of paper, "but come alone – and don't tell anyone and I mean anyone, where we're meeting."

"Got it."

***

Gibbs was too late to stop Fornell leaping out of the car. He followed, but he didn't like what he saw. The narrow alley with abandoned buildings on either side, the dark sedan that had been abandoned with its' doors open and at least one window shot out. His gut was telling him this was a perfect place for an ambush. He drew his weapon,knowing that behind him DiNozzo and Ziva had done the same. "Who was with her?"

"Sachs," Fornell placed his hand into a pool of dark liquid by the passenger seat and didn't need to tell them that it was blood.

A volley of shots from one of the abandoned buildings had them all heading in that direction. "Ziva?" Gibbs asked as she ran beside him.

"Sniper," she replied – agreeing with his assessment. "They're returning fire, but he has them pinned down."

"He's called for reinforcements?" Gibbs queried.

"Now that he knows we are here."

"I'll need an extraction," he told her. She nodded and then slid into position, covering the door as he followed Fornell into the building.

Ronald Sachs was lying in a corner – propped up on some old tyres – blood coming from a wound in his stomach. He was still holding his weapon and a woman was pressing down on the wound. At the sound of their footsteps she looked up, fear draining away to be replaced by relief when she saw them.

"Ms Shepard, this is Agent Gibbs." Fornell took her place at Sachs' side. "He's going to get you out of here."

"I don't understand,"

"No time to explain right now," Gibbs looked her up and down – noticing only that she wore flat shoes, which meant she should be able to move relatively fast. The loose cardigan and shapeless skirt combined with glasses and a knot of hair at her neck made him think she might be a librarian or a secretary. But he flicked the thought away and started firing out orders.

"DiNozzo, you're in charge until I get back."

"Yes boss," DiNozzo did a double take when he realised what he'd agreed to, "er boss – where are you going to be?"

"Don't know yet." He grabbed Ms Shepard's wrist and started to lead her back to the entrance. "You find the leak in Fornell's team, you got that?" DiNozzo nodded and Gibbs knew he was biting back the question about what leak, about what was going on. "Ziva?"

"Covering fire," she offered and threw her car keys to him, "take my car."

"Get them all out." He said, receiving a single, curt nod in response.

"I demand to know what is going on." Gibbs turned towards the woman standing beside him. There was steel in her voice, but he was unmoved.

"I'm trying to save your life." His eyes were drawn to the large bag she was clutching, "do you have a cell phone?"

"Yes,"

"Give me the phone," she paused and he barked, "now!" But though she jumped she clutched the bag tighter.

"I will not." He grabbed the bag from her shoulder and when he couldn't see the phone up-ended the contents onto the floor. She gasped in horror at his actions and resisted when he pulled her forwards.

"Gibbs," Ziva said from her position in the doorway, "we do not have time for this."

"If I have to knock you out and carry you I will," he told the woman still struggling against his grasp. "Your choice."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - thanks for the reviews, I am glad you are enjoying the fic so far. Though I should warn you that if you are expecting lots of action you might be disappointed.

**Part 2**

McGee sighed with relief as Ziva's car sped into sight – though for once the erratic driver at the wheel was not an Israeli with a hair trigger. "Boss," he said – watching as Gibbs unfolded himself from the car, then crossed to passenger door and opened it for the woman with him. She pushed away the hand that he offered and McGee almost smiled – until he noticed the blood on her shirt.

"Ma'am – are you hurt?" he asked stepping towards her.

"It's not my blood." Her eyes, behind the glasses, were large and he could see that she was scared, but fighting to hold the fear at bay. McGee wanted to tell her that she couldn't be in better hands but as he opened his mouth to speak Gibbs got there first.

"Ms Shepard – I need you to get into that car." He gestured to the car McGee had delivered and his tone was one that normally everyone obeyed without question. But the woman paused, her furious eyes locked with his.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm trying to keep you alive."

"It's my life we're talking about here."

"You think they're only going to be shooting at you? One injured Agent is enough." He opened the car door and she got in without further argument, but her expression was bleak – as though she was already blaming herself and Gibbs' reminder hadn't helped at all.

"McGee," Gibbs barked, "do you have everything?"

"Er yes, cell phones, the Director signed off on the money and," he looked down at his feet for a moment, "he said you might be gone for a few days so I picked up your overnight bag and some more ammunition."

The nod of approval was considerable reward for his initiative – especially from Gibbs. "Get Ziva's car back to her – and be careful." At McGee's questioning expression he said, "the Russian mob don't want her to testify against one of their own." He gestured to the woman in the car, "I just broke her out of an ambush – they're going to be looking for that car."

McGee swallowed hard and nodded. "Get back to the Navy Yard and help DiNozzo. He's looking for a leak in the FBI – someone close to Fornell. Tell Abby I'll call her." As he spoke he unclipped her cell phone from his belt and pressed it into McGee's hands and then without a backward glance got into the car and drove away. Leaving McGee to wonder just how dangerous it was going to be to drive Ziva's car back to the Yard.

***

Jenny Shepard wanted her life back. She wanted to retreat to the safety of her very own ivory tower where the written word was what mattered and ideas ruled.

She knew that she had done the right thing in reporting the death she had witnessed to the Police, her conscience wouldn't have allowed her to stand by and let the killer go free. But first there had been the phone calls and then there was a car outside her office, her home – watching her.

As the trial approached it had escalated to the point where the FBI had whisked her away from everything she knew, insisting she would be safer in protective custody. Only she wasn't sure if that was true – because twice now she'd found herself in the middle of a shoot out and she strongly suspected that she was running for her life. With a man she didn't know, let alone trust, as her only protection.

The decisions that had dominated her life for the last few months, the decisions she had been avoiding making weighed on her – but all of the duty, tradition and responsibility was nothing in comparison to this. She was exhausted and she was scared.

"Will Agent Sachs be all right?" She asked – wincing at the way her voice trembled.

"He should be, you kept pressure on the wound – that helped." The memory of the warm, heavy liquid that had covered her hands made her shudder. "It wasn't your fault – he was doing his job." She was surprised when he had added that, surprised he had recognised her feelings of guilt; that he'd noticed. He'd hardly looked at her, had treated her as though she were a burden; barking orders which he seemed to expect her to obey without question. But she wasn't used to someone else being in charge.

"And this is you doing your job?"

"Fornell asked for my help."

"You're not with the FBI?"

"No," she couldn't work out exactly what his expression meant – though if she'd had to guess she'd conclude that he had no love for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. "NCIS," he said – answering the question she was getting ready to ask.

"Should I know what that means?"

"Navy cops." She considered that information for a moment, still not really understanding what that meant, how the Navy was involved. Or whether it was not about the agency – but the man.

"You're a friend of Agent Fornell's?"

"You could say that." He was infuriatingly uncommunicative but she persisted.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, somewhere out of the way for a few days. Not DC, where are you from?"

"Connecticut."

"Not there either. You may as well make yourself comfortable ma'am – we're going to be on the road for a while."

"Do you think you could call me something other than ma'am?" She asked irritably.

"Of course, Ms Shepard."

***

"So what do we know?" Tony was saying as McGee returned to the bullpen. Ziva nodded in greeting and Abby, who was perched on his desk, reached out to give him a hug.

"Did the exchange go as planned?" Ziva asked.

"I think so," he threw her car keys at her and she caught them deftly. "Gibbs said something about the FBI – and the Russian mob?"

"Fornell's having problems keeping a witness safe." Tony said, "she's due to testify against this guy," he leant over and pressed a couple of buttons, "Grigory Orloff, about to stand trial for the murder of Katya Solovyov, she was a waitress and apparently she rejected his advances. Little Grigory's father is Egor Orloff – according to my buddy in the gangs unit he is a very big deal. There's a rumour he's sick, and Grigory is due to take over the business – which is going to be a problem if he's behind bars for murder."

"She is a brave woman." Ziva commented.

"Or crazy," Tony suggested.

"Do we know anything about her?" Abby asked, "is she pretty?"

"No," Tony said at exactly the same time as Ziva said, "yes." They all looked over at McGee, expecting him to decide things one way or another. He cast his mind back, the woman he'd met briefly hadn't exactly been pretty – but there had been something about her.

"Yes," he said, "sort of."

"If you're into librarians." Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Which apparently the probie is."

"Do we know anything _else_ about her?" McGee asked, keen to divert attention away from the type of women he was attracted to.

"We have the means to find out," Tony said – gesturing towards the bag on his desk. "Gibbs took this off her."

"Tony," Abby scolded, "you can't just look in her bag."

"Gibbs already tipped everything onto the floor," Tony defended his actions, "besides – it might be important. Our fearless leader is off who knows where with this woman, we need to know as much as we can about her." He fished into the bag for a moment, Ziva rolled her eyes and Abby covered her face with McGee's hands. "OK – we have an id badge, says Jenny Shepard and it's for an outfit called Aletheia,"

McGee had untangled himself from Abby and was typing something into his computer, "what do you have McGoogle?"

"There's no way she's one of those Shepards," he muttered under his breath.

"Care to share with the rest of the class." But McGee had already put the information onto the big screen.

"Aletheia – it's one of America's oldest publishing houses. One of the few still privately owned – in this case by the Shepard family. It specialises in publishing very serious, intellectual literature – their client list includes a couple of Nobel laureates and several Pulitzer winners." He scrolled through a few more pages and pulled up a photograph. "Jenny Shepard – according to the website she's the Managing Director."

"That's her all right," Tony agreed – stepping closer. "I smell old family, old money." He looked over his shoulder to see McGee reaching for his phone. "Who are you calling?"

"My Agent."

"I don't think you are going to make it onto their list probie."

"Publishing gossip," McGee told him. "You wanted to know about her." They waited while he had a quiet conversation and then put the phone down.

"Well?"

"The Shepards are famously discrete and Ms Shepard is reclusive even by those standards – so there isn't much gossip, but my Agent said the firm was in trouble until about 15 years ago – then things picked up, really picked up. Publicly her father, Jasper, was the one in charge but rumour has it Jenny was making most of the decisions. Jasper Shepard died six months ago – left her the firm, a couple of houses, pretty much everything. There have been rumours that she's thinking of selling up, but no announcements."

"You were right Tony," Abby had hopped off the desk and was standing closer to the screen, looking at the photograph and showed no signs of hearing what McGee had just told them. "She isn't pretty."

"You see," he said to Ziva, who rolled her eyes.

"She's beautiful."

"What? Do you need glasses Abby?" She responded to that by tapping him lightly on the back of the head, "hey!"

"You need to learn to look past what someone is wearing." She told him; her eyes still glued to the screen. "She is beautiful – she just doesn't know it. And one of you really ought to have told me she has red hair."

"She has red hair?" Ziva said, stepping close to look at the photograph and searching her memory of their encounter.

"Great," Tony rolled his eyes. "Gibbs has vanished with a WASP publishing heiress. Even if she does have red hair, I don't think she's the boss' type – anyone ever seen him read a book?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - thanks for the reviews. Glad you are enjoying the story.

**Part 3**

Gibbs kept his eyes on Ms Shepard as he waited to pay in the service station he'd stopped at to buy gas. He'd offered her a coffee, which she'd accepted gratefully, and had gone along with her request for a couple of bottles of water as well.

Using the facilities had obviously been embarrassing for her, as he'd lurked outside the ladies room until she'd emerged safely. Her only comment had been that she was glad he hadn't felt the need to follow her inside, but he could tell that she was uncomfortable with the situation.

His eyes ran over her clothing, cataloguing it as non-descript, careful, dull even. It just didn't add up. She dressed like someone who didn't want to stand out, or draw attention to herself. But, though he could read the tension in her body language – she was confident in her own opinions, not afraid to argue with him. By her own actions she had put herself in the firing line, made it impossible for her to fade into the background. She was a contradiction, a puzzle waiting to be figured out.

He looked up to find that she was watching him – but he didn't look away, interested to see how she would respond. She didn't say anything – but she returned his gaze, as though she had curiosity of her own to satisfy. Only the cough of the cashier interrupted them.

"Can we go now?" She asked when he had paid for the gas. He nodded, held the door open for her and followed her back out to the car. She reached for the door and then hesitated. "No one's been near it, I was watching."

"All of the time?" She challenged. He didn't even reply to that – but he did open the door first.

The silence lasted until they were back on the interstate. "You haven't asked me why I'm determined to give evidence," she said.

"Nothing to do with me,"

"That's not exactly true."

He conceded the point with a nod – because they both knew that keeping her safe could entail some risk to him as well. "You could have walked away when you realised how dangerous it was going to be – most people would."

"Maybe I'm not most people." He waited – certain it was more than that and she didn't disappoint him.

"A few months ago I left a difficult meeting, I wanted to walk – but I don't know the area all that well and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. By the time I'd sorted out what I thought about the meeting I was pretty much lost. I stopped at a coffee shop and the waitress explained where the best place was to pick up a cab. I thought the least I could do was buy a coffee in return. Just as I was finishing my drink a man came in to talk to her – they argued, until the owner told them to take it outside because it was disturbing the customers. When I left she still hadn't come back – I don't know why I just didn't assume they had gone somewhere with him to make up, why I didn't just leave it alone. I think somehow I knew it wasn't a lovers' tiff – even though they were speaking a language I didn't understand. I didn't really mean to go looking for her but, I heard something – not a scream, not a cry for help; turns out what I heard was the sound a person makes when someone is about to break their neck. They were in the ally – he had his hands around her throat and he just dropped her to the ground – as though she were a piece of garbage he was throwing away."

Her voice was controlled, but he could hear her emotion and he knew that she was going to make an impressive witness. "I was frozen, I was sure he was going to hurt me as well – but he just walked away, as though it meant nothing and as he passed me he put his finger to his lips."

"No one else came forward?"

"Owner of the coffee shop said he didn't see anything, I can't blame him. There has been a car outside my house and my office for weeks, I've had silent phone calls at all hours of the day and night. I've had to hire additional security, warn my staff, even speak to some of my authors in case they're threatened."

"Your authors?"

"I own a publishing firm." It wasn't what he was expecting – but then he didn't know much about publishing. "It's been in my family for 200 years and sometimes I feel as though it's swallowed up my life. But that girl came here to make something of _her_ life and now the Police can't even find anyone who will admit to knowing her. I won't stand by and accept that her life meant nothing."

He understood this moral code, recognised it as close to what drove him, the determination to find justice for victims and their families. He was beginning to see what Fornell had been talking about.

"Are your family safe?" He asked,

"I don't have any family – well, a sister in South Africa who is probably on the side of the Russians and a couple of cousins. My father died recently, I've been trying to decide what to do with the estate."

Something told him she might actually be talking about an _estate_ but he didn't ask. Instead he thought about the envy he had heard in her voice when she'd talked about building a life, without having to negotiate 200 years of history.

"I'm sorry if I am taking you away from your family." He shrugged that comment away easily.

"You're not – only thing waiting for me is some paperwork I'm trying to avoid."

"Glad I could help out with that." Her remark made his mouth curve into a smile and they travelled in companionable silence for some time, until she asked. "They're still looking for me, aren't they Agent Gibbs?"

"We won't use or credit cards. The car is clean. The cell phones are hard to trace and I tossed the one I used earlier – they don't know what to look for, no one knows where we are. We'll be OK."

"I have no clothes," she pointed out. "Actually I don't have anything apart from what I'm wearing right now."

"We'll stop somewhere in a couple of hours. You want to get some rest, go ahead."

"Thank you, but no." He shrugged.

"Going to be a long drive."

***

McGee sighed at the sight of Abby's agitated pacing. She was wearing overalls – the remains of Agent Sachs' car was waiting for her – but her focus was on the cell phone on the bench.

"Gibbs will call," he told her gently, "he said he would,"

"He's out there all on his own," she replied, "I mean, it's Gibbs – so I'm not worried, I know he can look after himself. But he's on his own Timmy."

"He's not exactly on his own," McGee pointed out.

"I know, I know Gibbs won't let anyone hurt Ms Shepard. But who's going to look out for him?"

McGee patted her on the shoulder and didn't say that he was pretty sure that Tony and Ziva were wondering the same thing. Not because they doubted Gibbs and his ability to handle the situation but because they watched out for each other; it was what being part of the team meant.

"The car," he said, turning her by the shoulders to look at it, "could be important –when Gibbs calls he'll want to know if we've got anything."

"You could hack the FBI computers," McGee knew he could – but knowing he could do it and actually doing it were different things and he absolutely wasn't going there until someone specifically told him to.

"Let's look at the car."

"OK – but don't stare at my ass,"

"Deal."

They went over the car together – pulling out bullets, trace from the tyres, dusting it for prints. "Woah, what is that!" Abby looked over her shoulder at him, "think I've found something."

He joined her in looking at the passenger door – at first he didn't know what she was talking about; but then he saw it, a small, transparent disc with a dark centre, it looked a little like a band-aid, though he was pretty sure that wasn't what it was.

"Is that some kind of tracking device?"

"I think so," she used a pair of tweezers to peel it off and dropped it into a tray. "I might be able to get a print, or maybe find out who the manufacturers are."

"Is it still working?" He asked and Abby bit her lip.

"I'm not sure, but if it is then whoever was tracking Agent Sachs' car knows where it is now." They exchanged worried looks and then, as if on cue Abby's phone rang.

"Gibbs!" She called cheerfully into the phone, "are you OK? Of course you are? Where are you? No, don't tell me, I know its top secret." She was quiet for a moment, listening, "you must have known to call me oh great one – because McGee and I just found something." She told him about the tracker and then listened before holding out the phone to McGee.

"Boss?"

"Tell DiNozzo to make sure Abby and Ducky have protection – none of you go anywhere on your own and watch your backs,"

"Will do,"

"Get Fornell to find out who had access to the car."

"On it. Shall I…" but all he got was the sound of the dial tone. He held the phone out to Abby, "he's gone."

"Of course he has – he does that." She bounced a little as she said, "when I asked him where he was he said he was getting coffee."

McGee smiled – figuring that even the Russian mob would be hard pressed to narrow down which coffee shop Gibbs was in.

***

Gibbs snapped his phone shut, his eyes never leaving Ms Shepard as she walked around the large Target store. She looked as though she'd never been in one before – which he supposed was possible. He hadn't been in one all that often himself.

But he'd needed a break from driving and she needed a change of clothes. They were still criss-crossing roads and were several hours away from DC – but he wanted to put some more distance between them and the city before stopping for the night.

She wasn't turning her nose up he realised, she was walking hesitantly along the rails of clothing, as though she had no idea what to pick up. Taking in what she was wearing and how different it looked from everything else in the store he wasn't surprised she was confused.

"You OK sugar?"

He nodded distractedly to the store assistant, but then called her back. "That woman over there," he nodded in Ms Shepard's direction, "she needs clothes for a few days." And then to try to explain what he was asking he added, "her suitcase got sent somewhere else – you couldn't help her out?"

"Look around you – it's not that kind of a store." She smiled flirtatiously at him, "anyone ever tell you you have nice eyes?"

"All of my ex-wives." He took $20 out of his wallet, "we don't have all day and she has no idea what to get." She took the money and tucked it down the front of her shirt – shaking her head as she followed the direction of his gaze.

"If all the rest of her clothes look like that it might be better if her suitcase stays lost."

Jenny hadn't realised how glad she was going to be to get out of the clothes she'd been wearing for over 24 hours, until stood in the changing room and waited for what the assistant had offered to bring her to try on.

They'd had a short conversation about sizes and then she'd disappeared back into the store, leaving Jenny alone for the first time in a while. Of course technically she wasn't alone – Agent Gibbs was, she was sure, close at hand. But this was the first time she'd really had a chance to consider what it meant that she had been forced to flee for her life. Did she really believe that one man could protect her when the FBI had failed?

It was an important concession that somehow she did believe it and not just because she had no choice. She was starting to trust him. And her trust was not something she gave easily or readily.

"Here you go sugar." An armful of clothes was passed to her and she took them, a little stunned that the woman had found so much so quickly. "I got you jeans, some vests, a couple of shirts, some dresses. Try them on and we'll see where we are." There was really nothing she could do but comply, though when she emerged from the cubicle wearing jeans, a vest and a shirt she was taken aback by the way the woman narrowed her eyes and regarded her critically.

"You know you've got a great body," this was something of a surprise to someone who had shopped at the same places for most of her life and whose aim in buying clothes was normally to find something that fit her and didn't gape in alarming places. Certainly no one had ever said that to her before and Jenny turned to look at herself in the mirror – the clothing unfamiliar, brighter and tighter than she was used to. She wasn't sure that she recognised herself. "Might need a smaller size in the jeans – try some more on and I'll find you the rest. You definitely going to need boots with heels." She was gone before Jenny could say anything – leaving her try to remember when she'd last worn jeans.

He didn't have all day. Gibbs knew that women in clothes stores could take a long time – he'd lived through enough shopping trips to be sure he never wanted to do it again. This time it was business and he'd had very little choice – but he was anxious to get back on the road.

He'd grabbed an overnight bag – to be brought with the rest of whatever she found to wear, but his patience was wearing thin. He took a step towards the changing rooms only to stop dead in his tracks.

His first thought was that it wasn't the same woman; that she must have snuck out somehow, swapped places with someone else. But the glasses were a dead give-away, as was the red hair scrapped back into a bun. Though somehow he'd missed the red hair until this precise moment; just as he'd missed legs that went on forever, which were now encased in jeans, and curves showcased by a vest and shirt combination.

That he was suddenly aware of her in a whole different way had nothing to do with the clothes and everything about the woman wearing them. But the clothes certainly helped.

"Close your mouth sugar," the store assistant winked at him as she passed – reminding him that he had a job to do. A job that had suddenly become a lot more complicated.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - thanks for the reviews and thank you Ellie, for all your encouragement - I know that I need it at the moment.

**Part 4**

Jenny had lost track of where they were sometime ago – though she knew they were heading south and they had been driving for more than eight hours. Her body was stiff from the long hours sitting in the car and her new clothes felt restrictive and strange. As they by-passed hotels and motels heading into the night she wondered if they were actually going to stop, or if they were just going to keep on driving until it was light.

Though she was looking out of the window her mind kept drifting towards that moment in the store – when it felt as though he'd looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. His eyes had flickered over her body – stubbornly refusing to be embarrassed at being caught. He'd watched her before, in the gas station for instance – it was his job to watch her, but it hadn't felt the same, hadn't made her own senses spin in response. In the hours since then her awareness of him had grown, the car that had seemed spacious earlier now felt almost too small and confined.

This didn't happen to her. The men she worked with treated her with respect, but none of them looked at her the way he had. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel anything like this and all just from a single glance.

But it was more than that – her life had been in flux for months, long before she'd witnessed a murder. Since her father's death she'd known that she'd needed to make changes – decide what she wanted. None of this had been on the short list.

She was surprised when he pulled off the main road, "sign for an Inn up ahead," he told her as she tried to make out where they were. But there were no other lights, no buildings – just the road winding gently up the hill.

It was an Italianate stucco mansion – which made her think they might be somewhere near Savannah. It had obviously been a private house once and was a lot more impressive than she had been expecting. She realised that he had deliberately by-passed all of those road-side motels to find somewhere that was out of the way, but which was also elegant. She felt at home here and almost ridiculously grateful to him.

"Thank you," she said as he opened the door for her. He nodded once in acknowledgment and guided her towards the entrance. As they crossed the elegant lobby she really hoped all of their rooms weren't taken, because she didn't want to have to go outside again.

The woman at the reception desk was engaged in a conversation with a young couple who couldn't seem to stop touching each other. Jenny looked away, a little embarrassed and reached for a brochure about the Inn. As she read her eyes widened – the description of it as a perfect place for a honeymoon or a romantic getaway didn't seem exactly what they needed.

"Maybe we should try somewhere else," she whispered to Gibbs, "somewhere more impersonal?" He looked confused for a moment but before he could ask her what had happened the young couple wandered away, eyes only for each other.

"Honeymooners," the woman behind the desk chuckled indulgently, "they just got married yesterday. Now – what can I do for you folks? A room?"

She was warm and welcoming; mildly surprised when it transpired that they didn't have a reservation. But the Inn wasn't full and she passed Gibbs a card to complete while she chatted away to Jenny about the history of the building and the amenities on offer.

"Our guests come here looking for a romantic retreat – we cater for honeymooners, second honeymooners." Out of the corner of her eye Jenny saw Gibbs hand pause on the card; but then he resumed writing.

"We've been driving for most of the day," she said deciding that a response of some sort was needed. "A sort of impromptu vacation."

"Oh that's lovely, but you must be exhausted. I'm going to put you in the Belevedere Room – it's south facing, gets lots of sun and it's nice and quiet. Well, all our rooms are quiet – the nearest house is three miles away. We pride ourselves on making sure our guests have everything they need for the perfect romantic vacation. I'll show you and your wife up to your room now," she said as Gibbs handed her the card back, "but please call room service if you need anything."

"Thank you," Jenny shot Gibbs a glance when she was referred to as his wife – but he made no move to correct the assumption and so Jenny was silent as well.

But it seemed that he had decided to play along, because his hand rested on the small of her back and as they climbed the staircase he stayed close to her. She sucked in a breath and tried not to think about how much they were going to have to pretend.

"So – dropped the kids off at their grandparents for a few days?" Beside her she felt him falter, just for a moment, at the woman's question. It was a surprise somehow – to learn that something could get to him. Abruptly she decided to take responsibility for coming up with an answer.

"Actually – we don't have kids, we haven't been married very long." Technically it wasn't a lie; they hadn't been 'married' very long at all.

***

Gibbs could already tell this was going to be a problem. Not the room, the room was beautiful, with a canopy bed and a working fireplace. The problem was, they were going to be in very close quarters and this woman already had his senses spinning; although, if he was any judge he wasn't the only one struggling.

He watched as she moved around the room – exploring, fingers trailing over the heavy furniture, her expression pensive. He hadn't expected the question about kids, but she had handled it flawlessly; adding to their cover into the bargain. He was impressed – but the problem was he was already a little too impressed by her.

She opened one of the bedside drawers and then slammed it quickly shut, stepping back from it as though burned, her cheeks flaming. Worried he opened the drawer to take a look, suppressing a smile with some difficulty when he realised that the drawer was filled with condoms of all different sizes and types.

"I guess they mean it when they say they want their guests to have everything they need." He said as he crossed the room to pull the curtains shut – deciding to leave the conversation about her staying away from windows until the morning. She was still looking embarrassed when he turned back. Her gaze was resting on the bed and it wasn't much of a challenge to follow the direction of her thoughts.

"I'll be sleeping on the floor," he told her, watching her expression change to relief, wondering if he had imagined a tiny moment of disappointment. He knew he should be telling himself sternly to concentrate on the job of keeping her alive, not to let his thoughts stray from that goal. But just for a split second he was lost, the image of them wrapped up in the bed together, wrapped around each other, seeping into his consciousness before he could snap back to reality.

"Are we staying?" He hadn't decided the answer to that – at first he'd only intended to find them a safe place to get some rest. But it might be not be such a bad idea to keep the car off the roads and he had to admit that as long as they blended in this wasn't an obvious place to look for a Federal agent and the witness he was protecting. But, blending in was full of temptations.

"I think so – it's out of the way, if we stay in the room it won't draw any unwanted attention, they'll just think we're..."

"Enjoying a romantic getaway."

"Yeah," he shrugged and then realised that he ought to at least offer her a choice. "We can head out first thing in the morning if you aren't comfortable."

"I trust you, if you think we're safe here then…" He nodded and she dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans and took a breath, "I can't keep calling you Agent Gibbs," she pointed out, "not if we're supposed to be married." She had a point; he'd been calling her Ms Shepard, which clearly wasn't going to work.

"Jethro," he offered.

"Guinevere," it wasn't what he was expecting and he couldn't help but react – she laughed in response,

"Guinevere?" he drawled back, enjoying seeing her smile and the way it seemed to relax her. She needed to smile more he decided.

"My mother was reading Mallory when she was pregnant." When that didn't make things any clearer she added, "Knights of the Round Table, King Arthur – all that. I hate it, but when I was younger I read that it's an early form of Jennifer – which is much less embarrassing. So I use Jen or Jenny instead.""

"There's a Leroy in front of the Jethro, I don't use it." She didn't ask him why not – which surprised him. Instead she nodded,

"Not feeling very regal?"

"I guess not."

"Am I Mrs Gibbs?"

"Mrs Mallard," it was the name he'd put on the card at reception.

"Will he mind our borrowing his name, Mr Mallard I mean?"

"He never has before,"

"You have a lot of use for a different surname?" She was smiling again.

"Undercover," he tilted his head, watching her try to decide if she believed him or not. "It's easier to use a name that's familiar and DiNozzo didn't seem to work."

"You don't look very Italian – whoever DiNozzo is, I hope the name suits them better than it does you."

"Believe me – it suits him." She nodded once and then surprised him, stepping close and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek very gently and very fleetingly.

"Hello Jethro."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I know there isn't a lot happening here - so I appreciate your sticking with me.

**Part 5**

Ziva looked up as Tony came down the stairs from the Director's office. He shrugged as he stopped beside her desk, "Fornell's team is locked down for the duration of the investigation. The Director is – twitchy. Do you have anything?" She didn't need him to add that he wished Gibbs were here to keep them focussed and to handle the Director in his own, inimitable fashion.

"There are many people who had access to Agent Sachs' car – and since we don't know when the trace device was attached it is difficult to narrow it down." She reported back, not enjoying being the cause of his disappointed expression. "Abby is trying to trace the manufacturer – but she has nothing yet. McGee is trying to unscramble where it was transmitting to – but he is not hopeful at this point."

"Was it still transmitting the car's location?" The single nod she gave made him suck in a breath. "If they know the car is here and that Fornell and Gibbs are – friends it isn't going to be too much of a stretch to figure out who is protecting Ms Shepard."

"But not where she is," Ziva pointed out, without disputing his analysis.

"Has he called again?"

"Not since he spoke to Abby."

"You think he got away?"

She looked levelly at him for a long moment. "It is Gibbs," she told him – which was answer enough as far as she was concerned. Tony nodded, but as he returned to his desk he still looked worried. The responsibility of finding the leak within the FBI, while Gibbs was out there on his own, was clearing weighing on his mind.

He had just returned to his desk when his cell phone rang. He listened for a moment and then started to gather up his belongings – still conversing quietly with whoever was on the other end of the line. Ziva followed suit and when the call ended he turned around and jumped when he saw her already standing right behind him, backpack on her shoulder – ready to go.

"I hate it when you do that," he told her. She smiled, because it was something she already knew and used to her advantage. "Metro PD has a body with FBI identification."

"Will they hand it over to us?"

"If we ask nicely."

"Which of us will be doing that?" He smiled broadly at her and she rolled her eyes and followed him to the elevator – wishing that Gibbs were here to at least try to keep him in line.

* * *

The brief kiss had apparently surprised her as much as it had him. She had seemed taken back by her own boldness – not that he was complaining about it. But she'd avoided meeting his eyes and when they'd all but tripped over each other trying to move around the room she had retreated into the bathroom for a shower.

Listening to the hiss of the water in the next room Gibbs settled into one of the armchairs by the fireplace and looked around him. The room was by no means small but they were going to be living in each other's pockets for the next few days. Every moment spent in public not only required a convincing performance as a married couple but also put Jenny at risk and even if he was fairly sure that they were successfully off the radar, he wasn't willing to push their luck too far. Though staying in the room, sharing the space, wasn't without its problems either. He was still trying to decide what he thought about her ability to work her way past his considerable defences.

When she emerged she was wrapped in one of the fluffy white robes the hotel provided and was toweling her hair dry. But before either of them could speak there was a knock on the door.

"Go back into the bathroom," he told her. She looked mutinous for a moment – but then gave in with a sharp nod. He waited until the door was safely closed behind her before he stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole.

He didn't think that the maid with the trolley was going to be much of a threat – but he'd sent enough teams undercover as waiting staff to be wary. He opened the door to let her in, responding to her bright smile with a nod. The trolley contained a platter of fruit and cheese and an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne.

"Compliments of the hotel sir, I'm going to turn down the bed and light the fire as well."

He watched her every move – noticing what she touched, where she placed the tray – just in case. "Jenny," he called, "the hotel's sent us food."

"Really?" She emerged slowly from the bathroom, still dressed in the robe. "That's very kind of you."

"We want to look after our guests Mrs Mallard, and I know you've had a long drive."

"This looks wonderful." When she saw the food Jenny realised that she was starving, that she had barely eaten all day. The fruit and the cheese looked tempting – and there was champagne as well. It was also a distraction from hearing herself called Mrs Mallard for the first time.

She watched Jethro, noticing that his gaze never strayed from the maid – wondering what he was looking for, what he was thinking. She hesitated as the maid moved from the now lit fire to the bed, realising that she had no idea how a married couple, a newly married couple in fact, would behave in front of someone.

She picked some fruit off the tray and curled into the other armchair, so she could dry her hair in front of the fire and watch her companion at the same time. It felt strange to be close to a man she barely knew, to be pretending to an intimacy that she had actually been without for longer than she cared to think about. She'd been lonely for a long time – burying it beneath the demands of running a company and the need to care for her ailing father. Now at least she was prepared to admit it, prepared to accept that she had somehow lost sight of herself along the way, even if she wasn't sure how to go about finding herself again.

"Breakfast is served until 10," the maid said as she made her way to the door. "Or you can call down and order a tray in your room."

"Thank you." Gibbs didn't say anything, but he did get to his feet and lock the door before returning to the chair and picking up some food as well. The chilled bottle was calling to her and though he might not approve – she wanted a drink. He shook his head when she offered him a glass; she wasn't surprised as he didn't exactly strike her as a champagne man.

"I'm not used to someone telling me what to do," she said after she had taken a couple of sips. She had resisted his authority on several occasions now and he deserved an explanation, if not an apology. "I like to be the one in control." His lips quirked into a quick smile and his expression clearly said that this wasn't news to him. A second later his expression changed again and she realised that there were several different connotations to that remark. Maybe it was the circumstances but her mind didn't normally stray so readily to sex – though perhaps his did.

He watched her in the firelight; the flames casting shadows across her face as she ran her fingers through her wet hair, letting the fire dry it. The silence, the fire light, a woman who intrigued him – he was almost enjoying himself and it was becoming more and more difficult to remember why he was here with her. He thought she might be having a similar problem – he was certain that she had forgotten earlier – let herself relax into the moment. It suited her.

She knew he was watching her and she was content to allow him to carry on – enjoying the way it felt to be the subject of his observation. But she didn't know what it meant.

The attraction was real – on her side at least – but she knew that depending on him to keep her safe, the forced intimacy of this situation could have an effect as well. This was uncharted territory for her – but perhaps not for him.

"Is it always like this?" she asked after another couple of sips of champagne, "being undercover I mean?" She wasn't sure they were undercover exactly – but they were pretending, maintaining a cover.

"Surroundings aren't normally this good," he replied, thinking back to undercover missions that had involved cold and damp buildings.

"Do you ever get confused – between what's real and what you're pretending?" It was a serious question, one that deserved a response in the same vein.

"I never have."

She looked up and their gaze locked – the penetrating blue of his eyes softened by the muted light in the room. She couldn't question the certainty of his tone; or that he understood what had prompted her question.

But the intensity between them was an answer of its own. This was very real and very powerful, she felt like touchpaper ready to be set alight.

Slowly she turned her head away, drawing her fingers through the long strands of hair. But his voice drew her attention back to him again. "You should wear your hair down more often."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - thanks for the reviews

**Part 6**

She had to stop running away from him every time their conversation became too dangerous. This time she'd used the excuse of finishing drying her hair – the hairdryer was in the bathroom.

She wasn't afraid of him when he tried to tell her what to do; she was too used to being the one to exercise authority to accept his easily. But when he looked at her she was terrified and excited at the same time and her instinct was to put distance between them, even though she had nowhere to run and at least a part of her didn't want to.

This man was playing tricks on her senses – which made her wonder why she wasn't more annoyed with him.

She hastily scraped her now dry hair into a loose bun - not prepared to acknowledge the image that flashed before her eyes of him leaning over her, hands tangled in her hair. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and almost didn't recognise herself; there was a blush colouring her cheeks, the glasses that she really only needed for reading papers had been discarded to reveal eyes that were tired and afraid but refusing to give up.

Sighing she decided it was too complicated to worry about now – she really was exhausted. Carefully she slipped the silky gown on – the one that the woman at the store had picked out for her. She hadn't had time to try it on and it wasn't what she normally wore to sleep in – but it was this or nothing and nothing definitely wasn't an option.

"I think I'm going to get some sleep," she said as she emerged to find him still sitting by the fire. He nodded, but didn't move, "do you want a pillow? Some blankets?" She wouldn't be too happy about the idea of a night spent sleeping on the floor, but he didn't seem worried – almost as though he was used to it. She pulled a blanket off the bed and found another with some spare pillows in the wardrobe. The fire was still giving off warmth, he wouldn't freeze.

"Well," she swallowed and pulled the rest of the bed covers back.

He opened his mouth to say that he was going to get changed in the bathroom and then closed it again – distracted by the view as she shrugged the robe off. The nightgown under it was lilac, came to mid thigh and dipped down perilously low in the front.

On another woman the movement of disrobing might have been calculated, seductive even – but he could read her body language, knew that she was trying to behave normally, trying to be blasé about something she wasn't used to. And she didn't need to try to be seductive. The sensuality was there, it was entirely unconscious - he doubted that she recognised it in herself.

The moment passed and she slipped under the covers, pulling the sheets up to her chin. "Don't let anyone in," he said heading to the bathroom, "call me if there's someone at the door." When she nodded he grabbed a couple of items from his bag – grateful to McGee for thinking ahead.

She turned the main lights out and curled into a ball, trying to settle in the strange bed. When Jethro padded out of the bathroom it was more than she could resist not to peek at him from under her lashes. Bad idea, she decided as he moved around in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, the fabric stretching across the muscles of his back as he lay out the blankets.

"Night Jenny," he said – amusement in his voice, as though he knew that she had been watching him and didn't mind. Maybe, she thought, he even liked it.

***

When they came back from the crime scene, Fornell was sitting at Gibbs' desk again. "I heard about the body," he said as though that explained his presence. Tony hesitated and looked at Ziva, who shrugged; without Gibbs here they weren't quite sure how to treat the FBI agent.

"Brody Campbell," Tony said as he sat down, deciding that it would do no good to keep the information to themselves. "He was a grease monkey, according to his ID he works in for garage that maintains the FBI fleet."

"He had access to Agent Sachs' car." Ziva pointed out.

"And we found two others with tracking devices on," Fornell said sombrely, "including mine. I picked up my daughter in that car."

"You have moved her somewhere safe?" Ziva asked and he nodded.

"We tried tracing the signal," McGee broke the awkward silence, "but it's pretty scrambled, it will take a while.

"No prizes for guessing who the trail will lead to," Tony muttered. "Mob's joined the digital age."

"Do you have a cause of death?" The Director had stressed that they were assisting the FBI. He had used words like co-operate and collaborate, which was the only reason that Tony answered.

"Ducky's doing the autopsy now – but it looked like two shots – one to the head, one to the chest."

"A professional," Ziva pointed out.

"Well, you would know." At her glare Tony held his hands up, "I'm just saying."

"McGee get access to Campbell's bank records," Fornell said, "chances are he was on the take and when he outlived his usefulness they got rid of him."

"Whose investigation is this?" Tony said, co-operating was one thing, but he wasn't happy to be taking orders from anyone other than Gibbs.

"You have a better idea DiNozzo?"

"No," he squirmed for a moment and then when he noticed McGee hadn't moved yet he said, "probie, get Campbell's bank records."

"If Campbell was responsible for the tracking devices it is probable that there was no leak from your team." Ziva pointed out; considering it was good news Fornell didn't look particularly cheerful.

***

She wasn't asleep. She hadn't been asleep when he'd emerged from the bathroom – he knew she'd watched him arrange his make-shift bed in front of the fire, gun slipped under the pillow - still within reach.

But that had been at least an hour ago. He doubted that he would do more than nap – but that went with the territory. She must be exhausted and there was no need for both of them to be awake.

He debated a couple of options, including continuing the silence, pretending not to know that she was awake. But he couldn't maintain that pretense. "Can't sleep?" he asked, hearing her sigh and the sheets rustle as she turned.

"Apparently not. What's your excuse?"

"You." He was too honest not to tell her the truth – or at least a part of it. He was doing his job, watching out for her and she was keeping him awake for other reasons as well. The need to protect her was getting tangled up with wanting to know more about her, to unlock her secrets.

The sheets shifted again, "I'm scared," she said after a long silence, her voice barely a whisper, "I'm scared that I'm not brave enough to go through with this and I'm scared of what will happen to me if I do. I want to change my life, not give it up to go into some sort of witness protection," she swallowed. "I don't want to die Jethro."

It was the first time she'd spoken his name and he knew then that he didn't ever want to hear it again in a voice so tired and fragile. "You're safe here," he told her, "you can rest."

"Thank you."

He lay still, listening as her breath evened out and eventually she fell asleep. The fire sent shadows across the room and he lost himself in them, memories of other failures haunting him.

He had come so damn close to telling her that everything would be all right – that he'd make sure she was safe. But those ghosts had stopped him, there were too many broken promises in his life already, too many people he had failed to protect.

He didn't know if he could make it through another loss.

He cursed Fornell for bringing him a case that roused memories of his past and a woman who had worked her way under his skin. If he had known she was going to make him feel things he had no right to feel, would he still have agreed to help? In the general scheme of things it made very little difference that he hadn't spoken the words aloud to her – he'd already decided that he was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - thank you for the reviews. Even I think this chapter has an 'ah' factor!

**Part 7**

The awkwardness was different in the morning. It was still there, but tempered now by an awareness of each other and the mutual knowledge that the awareness could so easily become something more. It was echoed in the diminished physical space between them as they stood waiting for Gibbs' preferred table for breakfast – out of the way of the windows and with the entrance in his line of sight. He caught it again when she teased him gently about whether he was planning to taste her food as well and in the way she blushed when the owner, who turned out to be the same woman who'd checked them in the night before, stopped by their table to ask if they'd passed an enjoyable night.

He recognised the situation for what it was and decided let things evolve naturally. But as he watched she was gradually becoming less self-conscious and it suited her, he liked the way she was becoming comfortable wearing a shirt and jeans and completely unaware of how she looked in them.

She knew something was different - something in the air and the space between them. It was subtle and indefinable and she wasn't sure she could follow all of its nuances. All she knew was that she felt different – as though something that had been coiled tightly inside her for years had relaxed slightly.

Breakfast downstairs had been a pleasant surprise since she'd imagined that they would be stuck in their room, eating off trays and getting on each other's nerves. It was true there had also been a lecture about not wandering off and following him without question if he told her to do something. She'd listened carefully, recognising that he wasn't telling her all of this because he liked hearing the sound of his own voice but still expecting to be bundled back upstairs at the first opportunity.

Apparently she was doing him a disservice, because while she was finishing her coffee and trying to pretend that she hadn't caught the innuendo in the question about how their night had been, he was busy asking about the grounds and particularly whether there was a secluded spot they might retire to with the papers.

She wasn't complaining and, of course, it was a request the hotel was able to accommodate. There was a walled garden with a patio that guests were welcome to use and all the newspapers that could be obtained were at their disposal.

Looking around her at her fellow guests she realised that they were all lovers - whether new or established, young or more mature. Jenny suspected that she and Jethro might be the only ones actually interested in the news. But she wasn't a woman who was used to sitting around doing nothing and at least this way she'd be able to keep track of what was happening in the world she had temporarily stepped out of.

* * *

"Oh God, don't stop!" The demand was followed by a breathy moan and the unmistakable sounds of clothing rustling and mouths moving lushly together. Jenny almost stumbled with surprise – they'd literally just stepped through the doors to the garden. Obviously they weren't the only ones here.

Her surroundings were pleasant; the garden was small and elegant with a fountain and the comfortable seating they had been promised. But there was one corner shielded from view and another couple seemed to be making good use of the privacy.

"Oh yeah," a male voice this time and accompanied by more quiet moans.

Jenny knew they couldn't stay here and listen to how much further the unknown couple were going to go. She wasn't sure why they were still standing here, why they hadn't retreated; but Jethro seemed just as rooted to the spot as she was. She looked up at him and the expression in his eyes made her whole body tremble.

The murmurs and whispered endearments around them faded away and all she was aware of was the way he was looking at her. He lifted his hand, fingertips ghosting across her cheek in the lightest of touches. She turned her head towards his hand, her lips brushing against his palm.

Her breath caught as the simmering intensity all but engulfed them. He moved closer and her eyes drifted shut as she felt his breath on her cheek. For a split second everything stopped as they hovered on the brink of a gentle kiss… that never quite happened.

A door banged loudly somewhere indoors and the moment was shattered. They blinked in confusion as awareness of where they were returned. But they weren't the only ones who had been disturbed.

A couple emerged from the unseen corner, sharing smiles and touches as they straightened clothing that had obviously been re-fastened in a hurry. Jenny realised it was the same couple that had been in front of them when they'd checked in the night before. Hands clasped together they hurried past, with a brief greeting thrown in her and Jethro's direction. Clearly they didn't realise that they had been overheard, or they didn't care.

Left alone she risked a glance at her companion, feeling a little bereft by the moment that had caught them up, but which had not ended as she'd expected it to. His expression was blank, unreadable and she bit her lip in confusion since she knew she hadn't imagined the desire she'd seen in his eyes. Perhaps he regretted being carried away.

* * *

Hours later Gibbs was no more certain what had happened between them than he had been at the time. But the desire to kiss her was as strong as it had been in that single moment, he just wasn't sure if either of them were ready for where that might lead.

Despite being a man who preferred action he'd spent an enjoyably lazy day; picking through a few papers, enjoying the quiet garden, the warmth of the sun and the company. The papers had been set aside after a while, for a comfortable silence that was punctuated by conversation. When she had found out how much of his career had been spent overseas Jenny had been curious; she was well travelled herself and she had drawn opinions and stories from him about the places he had been stationed that, in other circumstances, he would be loath to offer. He'd found himself talking to her about Russia and though he hadn't mentioned that he'd been married when he lived there he suspected he had said enough to allow her to read between the lines and draw her own conclusions.

Neither of them had been inclined to move from the garden, every now and again a waitress would appear so they could order coffee and some fruit for lunch. It was mid afternoon when Gibbs turned to ask his companion a question – and found that she had fallen asleep.

It was a quiet, peaceful sleep; she was curled up, cat like, long legs folded under her, one hand curled up under her chin. He couldn't bring himself to wake her and because he was sure she must be exhausted, he was determined that no one else would either.

But the situation gave him a perfect opportunity to examine what he felt and what he was going to do about it. One thing was clear; he wasn't sure that he'd met anyone like her. And while he didn't believe in fate, he did believe in timing - for want of a better word. He could sense that she was emerging from a protective shell that had perhaps surrounded her for years and he was drawn to the way her barriers were lowering at the very moment that she needed protection the most. The power of _his_ need to be the one protect her took him by surprise, until he realised that her bravery juxtaposed with her reserve had lulled his defences; drawing long dormant emotions from him. But he didn't know if he could embrace that change – his protective shell was his way of remembering what he had lost.

She didn't stir when the patio doors opened and the hotel's owner stepped out. She smiled at the sight of Jenny asleep and the man she knew as her husband so obviously watching over her.

"I was wondering if everything was all right?" Her gaze travelled between the two of them as she asked the question and Gibbs knew that she wasn't entirely asking him about their afternoon on the patio. He was considering how to phrase his response when Jenny's eyes fluttered and then opened.

"Hi – good sleep?" He smiled at her as she stretched out – looking even more like the cat he'd been imagining her as.

"Mmmm – I must have needed it."

"Its good to see you relaxed," her head shot up and he realised that she hadn't even noticed that the other woman was there.

"Thank you,"

"I actually came to ask if you needed anything else and if you'd thought about what you wanted to do for dinner? Whether you're planning to go out – or should I reserve a table in the restaurant for you?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrow, deferring to Jenny on this decision, certain that she knew they weren't going to go out. "That would be nice, but I'm not sure about my clothes. We packed in a hurry," she added, because she felt at explanation was required.

"It's not black tie."

"Of course not; I have a dress – but no shoes." The sales assistant at the store had pressed her to buy two dresses, she'd agreed only to one; realising after they'd passed the check out that she hadn't picked up any shoes to go with it.

"I am sure we can find a pair of shoes for you to borrow Mrs Mallard." Jenny flicked her gaze over to Jethro, who inclined his head.

"That would be wonderful – thank you."

Jethro listened to them discuss size and colour and hid a smile at Jenny's quiet request to borrow a few cosmetics as well. He wondered how they appeared to this woman; a newly married couple, neither of them young, who had arrived without a reservation and without some vacation essentials. Obviously they'd stood out enough to prompt a question about whether everything was all right – but he didn't sense that she was suspicious; it was more sympathy and concern. As though she had concluded they were caught up in some marital strife and that their time at her hotel was a way for them to reconnect. All things considered, it wasn't a bad interpretation.

As she conversed quietly about shoes and cosmetics, neither subject something she normally gave much thought to, Jenny was conscious of Jethro's gaze resting on her. She'd spent enough time with him now to realise that he was – complicated and that working out what he as thinking and feeling was difficult. She wished she had more experience with men to draw on. But college boyfriends and an ex-husband hadn't prepared her for someone so guarded and yet so compelling.

But, even if he was complicated he was still looking at her and she knew that she'd never have fallen asleep if she hadn't felt safe with him.

* * *

Jenny fiddled with her dress – adjusting the tie, the neckline, worrying that it was too low, too tight. The fabric was a thin jersey – which was fine since it hadn't exactly been an expensive outfit. But the teal colour seemed to suit her and though in the store she had feared that the wrap dress would be unflattering in actual fact it fitted her like a glove.

She didn't quite recognise herself – the woman she saw in the mirror was familiar – but different. She thought she could come to like her, this woman she seemed on the verge of becoming, even as she stood here wearing borrowed shoes and make up.

She had butterflies – looking at herself, thinking about the man waiting in the next room. The bad memories that haunted her were still there, but they'd been haunting her for so long now. Surely it was time to let them go?

Gibbs took a sip of the bourbon he'd ordered from room service and waited for Jenny to emerge from the bathroom; she'd been in there for a while but he knew better than to knock on the door and ask if she was likely to be ready any time soon – three ex-wives had taught him that much.

He turned his head at the sound of the door opening and though he was getting used to being rendered speechless at the sight of her this time was different. She'd left her hair down; it curled over her shoulders, the red gold glinting in the light. He knew that she'd done it for him – her shy smile confirmed as much.

He took a long sip of the bourbon and then set the glass aside, before offering his arm. She looked surprised for a moment and then pleased. As she wound her arm through his, he leant over, pressed a kiss to her cheek and told her quietly, "you look beautiful."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - thank you for the reviews. This update happened because it snowed so much today I couldn't go to work - so I guess thank you to the snow as well.

It had to happen...

**Part 8**

He should have expected that the atmosphere would be intimate and romantic – although he was grateful that the effect was subtle rather than overpowering. He watched as Jenny looked around, taking in the candlelight, the strains of soft music and the small tables that were perfect for holding hands over. When she raised an eyebrow at him he concluded that she was more amused than intimidated.

They probably talked more than any of the other couples in the restaurant; who seemed to be intent on gazing into each other's eyes – but that didn't matter too much, because he was rapidly learning how much he enjoyed talking to her.

When she asked him how he had ended up as a Federal Agent his natural reticence was sufficiently overcome to at least attempt to answer her. He didn't go into too much detail – but he did tell her that when his tour in the Marines had ended he had found himself involved in an investigation led by an NCIS Agent who had, somehow, recruited him – and then taught him everything he knew. She seemed to understand not to probe too deeply; that he had told her as much as he could.

But it had been a very long time since a woman had roused this much curiosity in him – enough to prompt him to ask in return, only half joking, if she'd grown up wanting to run the family firm. She sipped her wine and gave the question serious consideration before replying, "I'm not sure it was a conscious decision – but one of my earliest memories is visiting my father in his office on Saturday mornings, on my way to ballet class."

He had to smile at the idea of her as a tiny ballerina, despite the pain caused by the thought and the memory of Kelly; who had wanted to take ballet classes with Maddie Tyler. "There was no one else – my sister wasn't interested, still isn't, and the business was in trouble. I suppose I thought it would only be for a couple of years – clearly it's turned out to be a little longer than that."

"And the business is still in trouble?"

"No – business is good, so good that a couple of our competitors have made very _generous_ offers for the company." She shrugged, "in uncertain times great thinkers are in fashion and we have a great thinker or two on our list."

"Will you sell?"

"It's a possibility, though I don't know if I'm ready to abandon 200 years of family history." He wasn't even going to attempt to comment on what he was sure would be a difficult decision. But he wasn't going to be silent either.

"Your father trusted you." It wasn't a question, because for all her lack of confidence in certain aspects of her life, nothing he had seen made him doubt her will or her intelligence. "You'll make the decision you need to make." The more he thought about it, the more he wondered what had happened to her.

They had finished their main course when he had his answer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the couple they'd already encountered twice, leaning across their table, entwined in an increasingly passionate embrace. "Not everyone's honeymoon is miserable then," she said – following his gaze. It was the very last thing he had expected her to say and the echo of pain in her voice was enough to tell him he needed to word his response carefully.

"I didn't realise you were married."

"It was a long time ago, for a whole three days. One of those times when you're glad you let your attorney talk you into a pre-nup."

"Wish I'd learnt that lesson," he commented dryly, though in fairness that would have involved listening to his attorney at all.

"Just how many times have you been married?"

"Too many," he countered and then, because of the way she was looking at him he added, "more than twice."

"You're braver than I am," her attempt at normalcy wasn't entirely convincing, "I couldn't go through that again."

"Bad ending?"

"Well, we didn't last to the end of the honeymoon. I suppose you could say that we weren't compatible and that he didn't appreciate the fact." He stilled at her expression, the desire to actually hunt this guy down and hurt him growing with every second.

"Did he hurt you?"

He almost didn't want to hear her answer – and even though she shook her head and said, "not physically, " he knew that damage had been done, damage that had never entirely healed.

Carefully he reached over and touched her hand, wrapping his own around it – letting his touch anchor her in the present and keep away the bad memories he could see were crowding her now. She bit her lip and then almost in a whisper said, "I hate that he can still upset me like this," and her expression was so painfully beautiful that he couldn't stop himself from raising her hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to her fingertips.

For a moment she melted, his touch reassuring and somehow reverent at the same time. No one had ever looked at her this way, made her feel anything like this – but just as she could feel herself responding to him she remembered where she was, who she was and that none of this was real.

She pulled her hand away and mumbled an excuse before pushing her chair back and heading hastily for an exit. She needed to get away, to clear her head and regain some precarious control on her traitorous senses.

He was shocked for a fraction of a second, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be protecting her and that he couldn't let her just disappear into the night on her own. He followed her rapid progress, relieved when he realised that she wasn't heading outside.

"Jenny," he caught up with her just outside the ladies room, grasping her wrist before she could disappear inside. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he just stared at her, still holding onto her wrist, seeing the tumult in her eyes and knowing that there was more to this than she'd told him. "I hate feeling like this."Angrily she swiped at a tear on her cheek – wishing he would stop looking at her as though she was something important and special. "I can't pretend the way you can, it's not just some undercover mission to me."

"I don't pretend." He told her, his tone firm and calm. He pulled her closer; releasing her wrist so he could rub his thumb over the path her tears had taken. "This isn't part of the mission."

"What isn't?" Her eyes were mesmerising – wide with surprise, dark with passion; he was going to get lost in them, in her. There was no reason to answer to her question with words.

She shivered as he lowered his mouth to hers, the heat of his body sending her senses spinning and making it difficult to think about anything but the careful rhythm in the way their mouths were moving together. She arched into him, hungry for more, parting her lips at the barest of pressure; granting him entry, moaning softly as he tasted her.

"It's good to know we aren't the only ones who can't keep their hands off each other." The voice was amused, but more than enough to break the mood. As they drew back from each other Jethro glared at the young man whose insolent comment had derailed that precious moment and drew a rapid but genuine, "sorry guys," from the man in question.

But it wasn't some simpering idiot he was bothered about and Gibbs was charmed and relieved when Jenny dropped her head onto his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair, not willing to let her out of him embrace – though in fairness she seemed more than content to stay put.

It was the couple who, only moments before, had been all over each other in the dining room. Since it had been their display of affection which had, in a tangential way, led to the kiss he was prepared to be generous, taking his irritation down a notch.

"Can we buy you a drink to make up for…" when the young man ran out of words and just sort of gestured his wife rolled her eyes.

"What my charming husband means is – would you like to join us for a drink? We're about ready to come up for air and actually talk to someone else for a while." Clearly she was going to be the diplomat in their relationship.

* * *

Neither of them was hungry, so the remains of their dinner were abandoned in favour of a drink at the bar. Jenny had to admit that she wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation, which was thankfully about the local area, rather than about weddings.

Jethro had introduced them only using first names and he had been vague about his job, offering only that he was 'in security'. Jenny was sure that their companions, who were called Nick and Amy, had no idea what that meant and were a little too intimidated to inquire further.

The admission that they hadn't left the hotel all day didn't seem to cause any surprise – although Amy blushed when she realised that they had been the ones to witness their interrupted tryst in the garden that morning.

Jenny did listen for long enough to gather that they had been riding and to murmur wistfully that she hadn't been riding in ages – but there were other things demanding her attention and she gratefully gave into Jethro's pull and let her awareness of him block out what was going on around her.

He was resting his hand on her shoulder; his thumb rubbing gently back and forth and, though it could have been a soothing gesture, combined with their close proximity it stoked the fire the kiss had lit; keeping her body humming with desire.

She tried to remember why this wasn't a good idea but his touch, the warmth of his body so close to hers were, for now, effective defences against her fears. She pushed her glass of wine aside and reached for the bourbon he had ordered, watching him over the rim of the glass as she took a sip. His eyes darkened and her stomach clenched in response, almost unconsciously she moistened her lips and heard his sharp intake of breath as his eyes avidly followed the gesture. All she could think about was the hovering passion in the way he'd kissed her and shakily she replaced the glass - fearing that it would slip from her fingers.

She let her hand drop onto his thigh – enjoying a moment of power when she felt his muscles tense. She squeezed lightly; drawing his attention away from the desultory conversation and back to her; though really she doubted it had ever gone far. "Perhaps we need an early night?" she said quietly.

It was difficult to resist the lithe line of her body as he followed her upstairs. Letting his hand drift a little below the small of her back he watched the emotions chase themselves across her face. Her forwardness in the bar had surprised him; maybe it had surprised her as well. Nick and Amy on the other hand had smiled conspiratorially as they made excuses and hurried off together. Under no illusions about what the early exit meant.

He gave serious thought to pushing her back against the wall and kissing her again and almost gave into the impulse. He probably would have if he hadn't decided they were likely to be interrupted again. He definitely wanted them to be alone the next time he kissed her.

Her confidence faltered as they reached their room. He seemed entirely too comfortable in this situation and she knew that all of the things about him that attracted her, had surely attracted other women as well. His assurance wasn't arrogance or bravado – it would be far easier to dismiss if it were.

But he reached for her as soon as the door was opened and she went willingly into his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him, flicked the lock and fumbled for the light switch. Kissing him almost made the fears go away – certainly the urgency was mutual. She slipped her arms around his waist and ran her hands over the muscles of his back.

He let his mouth drift to her throat, lips travelling over exposed skin as she moved her head to allow him better access. He tugged her closer using the tie of her dress and they stumbled across the room together towards the pulled away from her for long enough to shrug off his jacket and then unfastened the shoulder holster – stepping to drop the gun on the bedside table.

She shivered as he moved away from her, feeling the loss of his touch though it was warm in the room. But that went away as he returned to her side, stroking his hands over her face, his expression intent. Her eyes closed and she turned her head, blindly seeking his palm and then pressing a kiss to it as she had that morning in the garden.

This time there was no one to interrupt them and he breathed her name as he drew her to him. His hands still framed her face as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, reveling in the way she curled her hand into his hair, holding him close. Coming up for long enough to catch their breath he let his hands drift over her body – skimming her sides, grazing her breasts and then resting on her waist. He pressed a kiss below her ear, feeling her squirm as he nibbled the skin there and at the same time gentle pulled on the tie to her dress.

As he'd thought, the tie was the only thing holding the dress in place; his investigative instincts were clearly still functioning. He drew the dress further apart, exposing more of her body. He sat down on the bed, taking a moment just to look at her, admiring her pale, creamy skin, the sprinkling of freckles on her chest and lacy black bra that her breasts were encased in. He leant forward and kissed her stomach, watching her muscles tighten, puffing out a breath against her skin and seeing goose-bumps rise.

Jenny felt too exposed suddenly; his eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them and it was as though someone had flicked a switch in her – or doused her in cold water. She was standing in front of him, practically naked and all she could think about was that it was impossible that she would please him. Already she could imagine his disappointment and she knew she didn't want to see that in those eyes.

"I can't do this!" She pulled away, drawing her dress back around her as she turned from him.

He watched her for a moment, taking in the rigid line of her back, the way she was holding herself as though she was expecting some sort of blow to fall. He stepped up to her touching her shoulder briefly, refusing to be pushed away. "There's no pressure," he said before backing away, giving her space.

She watched as he moved carefully around the room, only distantly realising that he was pulling the blankets and pillows they had stowed in the wardrobe that morning – intending to sleep on the floor again.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor tonight." She couldn't look up at him to see his reaction, "it can't be good for your back and the bed's big enough."

"You sure?" He stopped a short distance away from her and she risked a glance in his direction. He was looking at her as though she was fragile, broken and she hated feeling that way. She nodded firmly, not trusting her voice and didn't wait to see his response – the bathroom was the closest thing she could find to a safe place and she retreated to it once again.

She took off the makeup she'd borrowed and splashed cold water onto her face knowing that what had just happened deserved an explanation, but totally unable to give it. She'd been humiliated, berated, insulted in a hotel room years before, on what should have been one of the happiest days of her life. She could remember locking herself in the bathroom, listening to her husband pounding on the door, telling her that it was her fault – that he hadn't known he was marrying someone who was frigid.

And if she hadn't been before, she probably was afterwards. His words had become a self-fulfilling prophecy, driving away her confidence from her earlier relationships. She'd had sex since – but not made love. There had been meaningless encounters with men she barely knew, didn't care about and only under the influence of considerable amounts of alcohol. And she had hated herself more every single time.

Gibbs hesitated, not sure that sleeping in the same bed was a good idea but ultimately persuaded that she wouldn't have made the offer if she didn't at least want him close. But he was annoyed with himself for not being more careful with her. She'd told him a little, he could guess some of the rest and that meant he should have made sure she felt safe and secure – not hesitant and vulnerable.

He was under the covers on the side of the bed nearest the door when she emerged from the bathroom. All of the lights had been turned off and the firelight cast dim shadows across the room. He felt the covers shift and the bed dip as she turned on her side, back to him. He sighed, letting the tense silence engulf them – he thought about saying something to her, but wasn't sure he could find the words or that she would want to hear them.

She tried to will her body to relax, so she could sleep – but it was reluctant to co-operate. Her muscles felt tense, her breathing was still shallow and awareness of the man lying beside her crawled over her sensitised skin like tiny spiders.

It was going to be a long night.

Her mind had that moment on continuous playback and she cursed her own stupidity, how could she have let old ghosts effect her? Jethro hadn't done anything to rouse those fears in her, but he deserved a partner who was as bold and confident as he was – not someone paralysed by the fear that she would disappoint him.

She rolled over, blinking back tears – remembering how his touch had made her feel and wanting to do nothing more than bury herself in his arms until she felt safe again.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, not sure if he was still awake, but needing to say the words to him anyway.

Gibbs bit back his instinctive response to those words, this wasn't the moment to talk about weakness, "you have nothing to be sorry about," he told her.

Falteringly she reached out and touched his shoulder, drawing her hand slowly over his back as though she thought he would shrug her off. Instead he reached behind him, captured her wrist and pulled it around him, so that she was spooned behind him and their hands were entwined on his stomach.

As they lay together he knew she was relaxing; he could feel her heartbeat and the soft whisper of her breathing. He was entirely too aware of the way she was pressed against him and that their bodies were only separated by his boxer shorts and thin t-shirt and the silky gown she wore.

He wasn't sure she realised how easy his body was to rouse again. But he forced himself to lie still when she pressed her lips to his neck and dipped her fingertips under his t-shirt to trace a pattern on his stomach. It was a very pleasant torture, letting her take her time to explore. She drew his t-shirt further up – her hand stroking over his hip and stomach as her mouth trailed over his neck, towards his ear. He bit back a groan as she pressed closer still – her body plastered against his and so intent was she on touching him he didn't even think she noticed that she was rocking her hips against his.

"Jenny," he breathed and she stilled. He turned onto his back and looked up at her; in the firelight her eyes were luminous. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then to the place her neck joined her shoulder and finally he kissed her gently on the mouth.

They kissed and caressed for what felt like hours – a slow, sensual exploration that somehow managed to shut the rest of the world out. The way she touched him told him more about what had happened to her – but her initial hesitancy ebbed slowly away as he coaxed her into communicating where and how she liked to be touched. His t-shirt was slipped off first and a little later she lifted her arms so he could pull her gown off and cast it aside.

He pushed her back onto the bed and covered her body with his before she had the time to feel nervous about the fact that they were almost naked. Although now there was no way to hide just how aroused he was.

Her fingernails dug into his back and her head moved back and forth on the pillow; her hips rose to meet his, her legs parting instinctively – the demand of her body clear. But he didn't think the problem lay with her body and he knew he needed to make sure that her mind was in no position to deny her.

He'd kissed and touched her everywhere; she'd never felt this alive. She wanted him so badly now that everything else was of secondary importance. Impatiently she tugged at the waistband of his shorts and he shifted so that she could push them off, enjoying her assertiveness and then returning the favour, removing her last items of clothing with the same sensuous pleasure.

His mouth was at her breasts, tasting her – his fingers flickered at her centre, slipping through heat and wetness. The slow stroking and the suckling was edging her higher, her body felt like it could explode any moment – the release a fingertip away, but she wanted him inside her.

"Jethro, please," she breathed – her voice cracking with need and desire. She felt him smile against her skin and then move away for long enough to reach for the drawer of the bedside table where the condoms were.

He kissed her as he slid into her, his tongue stroking against hers – movements she echoed as she lifted her hips to meet his thrust. He felt her grimace of pain and stilled for a moment, but the moment passed and he pulled back, then pressed forward again. She tightened around him and he knew she was close, they were both close – the foreplay had been intense and though on another night he might have ridden that edge, drawn things out even further – he wasn't sure he wanted that now.

He picked up the pace, their moans coming in unison. He wasn't so worried about being careful with her now; she was moving with him, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful.

He was all she could see, hear, smell and taste. His touch burned through her – inside and out. The low coiling pleasure started at the pit of her stomach and she buried her head in his shoulder, letting it build, the pressure relentless. She felt his movements change – the strong, steady rhythm faltering.

She forced her eyes open, watching the blaze of heat and passion in his eyes and it was his expression that pushed her over the edge – coming apart for him with a low howl of pleasure. He lasted a heartbeat longer, enough time to see her face suffused with naked sensuality from the climax, before pressing deep into her and staying there.

As they panted together he pushed her hair back from her face, kissing her cheek, feeling the heat that he suspected was part blush, part the result of their very strenuous work out. He rolled over onto his side, pulling her with him and slipping out of her, "don't go away," he told her, crawling out of bed and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

She rolled into the space that he'd occupied - appreciating his gesture, but hoping he didn't take too long. The fear of rejection was a quiet voice in the back of her mind and she tried hard to shut it out, reminding herself that her body was still trembling from what he'd done to her, from what they had done together. But the seconds he was away felt far longer than they really were.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he crawled back into bed and then reached for her hand – raising it to his lips as he had hours before in the restaurant. She stroked his cheek, the smirk in his expression making her smile and then bury her face in his shoulder, laughter bubbling from her.

He stroked her hair; letting the feeling of being sated and relaxed settle over him – and judging by the way her breathing evened out, over Jenny as well. As she fell asleep she shifted a little and he tucked her into his side, so that her arm was draped over his chest. Her buried his hand in the soft weight of her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was her lips curving into a slight smile.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 9**

"You've never even thought about it?" Abby said as they waited in line.

"No,"

"Really?" She took a huge sip of her Caff Pow, "not even once? Not even for a single moment?"

For a moment Tony wondered if it might have been easier to look after Ducky – letting Ziva be the one to watch over their precocious forensic scientist while McGee, who had spent most of the night trying to unscramble where the tracking devices were feeding back to, got some sleep. He paid for his coffee, flashing a smile at the pretty blonde barrista that earned him a tap on his butt from his companion.

"Not even a horny little devil on your shoulder," she whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief. Then she threaded her arm through his as they stepped outside. "It would be so cute."

"I am not letting you talk me into getting a tattoo Abs," she pouted and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she tried again.

But the thought died as they stepped onto the street and found two men waiting beside his car.

"Can I help you gentlemen? He moved in front of Abby – hoping she had the sense to stay where she was.

"Agent DiNozzo – and the lovely Ms Scuito. I'm a great admirer of your work, it's a pleasure to meet you."

He was young, sleek and confident – with just a hint of an accent that Tony was pretty certain would turn out to be Russian. His companion was clearly the muscle of the operation and Tony wasn't surprised when he didn't say anything – just looked menacing.

"I wish I could say the same, but since we haven't been introduced,"

"And I was sure Agent Fornell would have given you all the pertinent information. My name is Anton Orloff." Tony shrugged, deliberately dismissive – just to see if he would bite. But Orloff looked amused, rather than irritated, "I was hoping you could get a message to Agent Gibbs for me."

"Can't help you, I have no idea where he is right now."

"Well, when you do speak to him, please tell him I am looking forward to meeting him in person – oh and be sure to send my regards to Ms Shepard as well." He summoned his goon with a single look and together they strolled off into the street as though they didn't have a care in the world.

"Did he just threaten Gibbs?" Abby whispered.

"I'd say so."

"We have to find a way to warn him."

"Abs," he took in her scared eyes, "they don't know where he is – they're hoping that we do, that we'll try to warn him and that will lead them to him."

"So we're just going to do nothing?" Tony patted her on the shoulder, not wanting to admit that they had very little choice.

"Gibbs is fine – they don't know where he is. When he comes back with Ms Shepard, he'll have all of us to help him. OK?" She nodded and then threw her arms around him in a hug that lasted until he was struggling to breathe. Then she released him and took another huge sip of Caff Pow.

"What do you think Gibbs is doing right now?" She asked.

* * *

Jenny woke to fingertips stroking over the back of her knee – she smiled into her pillow as the same warm hand stroked up and down her thigh. After a moment longer she captured the roving hand and held it against her as she turned her head for a morning kiss.

This didn't feel like her life – waking lazily in the arms of her lover, a lover who, when she turned to face him was, she realised, already extremely awake. She trailed her hand down his chest; wanting to touch him; aroused by the knowledge that he was aroused. She knew she was tentative but he sucked in a breath and his hips bucked against her hand in a plea that she couldn't fail to respond to. She pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot on his jaw and let her hand drift along his length.

This time she was the one to reach for the condoms on the bedside table and their coming together was slow and easy, completely without the emotional intensity of the previous night – though the connection was almost more powerful for the lack of other things to distract them.

He moved deep and slowly within her as they drifted languidly towards release. They were gazing at each other, trading long, open–mouthed kisses and she felt as though everything in her past had been washed away – that there was only the two of them and this slowly building storm.

She was so close, she could feel the tension starting in her toes, spreading like tendrils of fire through her body. "Oh God," she fumbled for his hand, clutching it as they pulsed curved his other hand over her hips, changing the angle just a little and it was so damn good she couldn't help but cry out.

Her breathy cries were what really shattered his control; she hadn't been especially vocal the previous night and the sound of his name spilling from her lips was all he needed.

She lay with him afterwards; her hand stroking over his back and shoulders, "good morning," she said at last, stretching languorously against him.

"Breakfast in bed?" he suggested.

* * *

"Heard you had a visitor." Fornell was back and sitting at Gibbs' desk again when Tony retuned from briefing the Director.

"Has the FBI run out of cases?" Tony asked – his gaze travelling over Ziva, who was reading papers and pretending not to listen, and McGee who was concentrating on his computer – his usual approach to a conversation he was avoiding.

"Well, my team is shut down until you decide whether there is a security risk so – yes."

"And I thought it was because you liked us."

"Well you'd be wrong." Fornell said bluntly – which wasn't exactly a surprise.

"McGee, can we put Agent Fornell out of his misery? That way he might leave us alone."

McGee looked up uneasily, "we've found payments totalling $150,000 in Brody Campbell's bank accounts. The payments have been coming in over the last 2 months – from a company called _'Legerdemain' –_ that means trickery or deception it's," he caught Tony's eye and realised this wasn't the moment for a lesson on the origin of the word and why it was relevant to the information he was imparting. "Legerdemain is an auditing firm – looks clean on paper but we haven't taken a close look. And there's no reason why they would be paying a mechanic that much money."

"So, we check it out and find a connection to the family Orloff." Fornell shrugged, "no big surprises there." Tony glanced over at Ziva who shook her head slightly – her expression clearly reminding him which of them was the senior agent.

"No," he agreed, deciding it was time to take the bull by the horns. He hit a couple of buttons on his keyboard. "But Campbell's girlfriend recognised this man and this woman, said they were friends of Brody's."

Fornell's expression changed and he pushed himself up to take a closer look at the screen. "She's a Metro PD detective," Tony said before Fornell got a chance to ask, "and you might recognise him – he's an FBI analyst who was briefly attached to your team a couple of weeks ago."

"What have you done about them?" His tone was hoarse and Tony knew it was mostly anger at the knowledge that fellow officers had betrayed him.

"The Director is handling it – he's briefing Metro and your Director now. They'll be an investigation."

"You can count on that."

Fornell reached into his suit pocket and threw a small disc at McGee, who caught it deftly. "I brought you some information about Orloff. It's not much, he normally likes to stay in the shadows." He waited while McGee accessed the data, "Anton Orloff," he began as images of the man Tony and Abby had met earlier played across the screen, "Grigory's half brother. He's ten years younger, educated at Columbia and until recently no one was sure that he had anything to do with the family business."

"He is involved now," Ziva pointed out. Fornell shrugged,

"Well, the old man has pancreatic cancer, the heir apparent might go down for murder – he has no choice. But he and his big brother don't exactly see eye to eye – there isn't very much subtley in Grigory and if Anton has his way the business will change. He's been making them money over the last few months and my colleagues think some of it might even be legitimate."

"This sounds like the Godfather." Fornell's expression was priceless, because in this company a movie quip might well be expected – but not from McGee. "Ow!" Tony head-slapped him, but his heart didn't seem to be in it.

"Tony is paddling Gibbs," Ziva told Fornell – who looked more confused than ever at her remark.

"It's channelling," Tony said – a correction that she received with an eye roll.

"My point is, you are having to be Gibbs and you are not enjoying it. McGee seems to be taking over your role by relating everything to media trivia. It is confusing, I do not like this."

"I'm starting understand why Gibbs uses head slaps as a teaching method." Fornell announced, to no one in particular.

* * *

Gibbs had been tempted to suggest sharing a shower, but his conscience wouldn't quite allow him to ignore the risks inherent in their being in the shower together, though his fickle conscience didn't seem to have the same objections to making love to her. He knew that what he was doing was a very long way from protecting her, that he'd thrown the rule book out of the window when it came to this woman, though he was old enough to know better. Mike would probably say that his behaviour deserved a head slap or two and he wasn't sure he'd disagree with the analysis.

When he emerged she was sitting in the middle of the bed, looking out of the windows – she was just about obeying his injunction to stay away from them, but it was a technicality. Her head turned towards him and her eyes wandered over his near naked body. At her expression the desire flared again, running up and down his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach.

They watched each other for a moment and then without realising he had moved he was pushing her back, she was tugging his towel off and all discussions about the rest of the day were postponed for a little longer.

She was starting to get worried about what was happening to her. One moment she had been wondering if she would be able to persuade Jethro to go outside. The next he had appeared fresh from his shower and she had been distracted by the sight of the towel slung low on his waist and by thoughts of tasting the droplets of water on his shoulder. He'd reacted to whatever he'd seen in her expression and they'd well – taken advantage of the fact that she was still in bed and he wasn't dressed.

"I think I'm turning into a sex maniac," she mused, her cheek resting on his chest as they caught their breath. He didn't reply but she felt him shake with what she suspected was laughter. Pushing herself up to look at him she saw that her suspicions were well-founded. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No," he drew the word out – amusement twinkling in his eyes. She arched an eyebrow at him, completely unconvinced.

"Its not funny." He pulled her up, so she was lying on top of him. "You're supposed to reassure me. " Her comment was met with a slight head tilt and an even more amused expression. Not satisfied with that as a response she wriggled out of his grasp and attempted to escape into the bathroom, but he caught her easily and tugged her back into his arms. She didn't struggle, melting into his embrace instead as her hand traced the line of his shoulders. She groaned with frustration and dropped her head against his chest as she realised that she was touching him again.

"I give up." With considerable effort she attempted to have a normal conversation. "What do you want to do today?" A smirk drifted across his lips and she read his thoughts without difficulty. "Other than that."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N - thanks for the reviews and sorry for the delay in updating. I don't really have an excuse but I was on holiday and the internet connection was non-existent. But here is a long chapter to make up for it. Hopefully you won't mind the smut or the explanation about what happened on Jenny's wedding night...

**Part 10**

Jenny had never been any good at pretending and today was no exception. While spending the day in bed was a tempting prospect she had woken knowing she wanted to shake off the feeling that she was a bird in a gilded cage.

The time was fast approaching when she would have to return to DC and face the trial and before that she needed to feel the sun on her face and know that she could wander wherever the fancy took her. She wanted a taste of freedom and to share a simple, uncomplicated day with Jethro – in case she never got another chance.

There was no sense in making it something other than what it was – they were here, now, together and she couldn't think any further than that. But she wanted the time with him and she didn't see any point in hiding away from the reason that it mattered so much.

She wasn't expecting him to agree without a fight - they had already broken far too many rules and now she wanted to go outside. She expected him to refuse point blank; to offer the garden as a safer alternative. But he regarded her levelly for a moment, before nodding once and asked her how long it had been since she'd been riding.

He'd suggested riding because of how wistful she had looked the evening before when it had been mentioned and because it was less risky than taking the car or an expedition on foot. But that didn't stop him from preparing carefully – checking trails and choosing one that took them through woodland that would give them cover.

He knew that they were standing closer together than before, that they could hardly stop touching each other. He hoped they were subtle about it, but when the owner smiled knowingly at them he gathered that his perception might be off about that – and he wasn't sure he cared. He slipped an arm around Jenny, pulling her close and asked the owner to arrange some water and food to take out with them.

The stables were behind the hotel, in a block that had obviously been built for the house's original inhabitants. The horses were sleek and well looked after, prancing happily around at the idea of an outing. He watched as Jenny talked quietly to her mount, stroking his neck, before swinging fluidly into the saddle. He wasn't surprised that she looked as though she knew what she was doing and as he followed suit she smiled over at him – mostly relaxed.

It was shady and quiet in the woods – she could smell the flowers, hear the gentle chirrup of insects. Her horse was well behaved, responding easily to her as they trotted along the trail, leaving her plenty of time to think. As hard as she tried to be only in the present, only in this day – her mind insisted on slipping to the past. Jethro deserved an explanation for her reaction to their intimacy and, for the first time, she wanted to tell someone what had happened to her. But, she didn't know if she wanted to risk revulsion, or pity. Perhaps after all, silence was easier.

But if this was the day she was giving herself to live the way she wished she'd lived all the years that had passed, then she knew she couldn't hide.

It had been years since he had been riding – the memories were too painful, too bitter; even now half of his mind was on afternoons at the beach a lifetime ago. It was testament to how he felt about this woman that it was only half his mind – and that wasn't helping his guilt any.

His previous attempts to let the past go had ended causing more pain – and not just to him; he'd reconciled himself to being alone, or at least without emotional connections. But Jenny was making him wish things were different, making him wish that he was different – or at least that he had the capacity to try to be.

They ate their picnic stretched out on a blanket beneath some trees, with a brook babbling gently somewhere close by. She picked at her food and he hardly needed to be a mind reader to realise something was bothering her. He wondered if she'd share it, or keep it to herself. But she wasn't like him.

"I want to tell you what happened," she said without looking around at him, her gaze off into the distance.

He reached over to push a stray curl back behind her ear and then stroking a hand along her spine, feeling how tense she was. "The man you married turned out not to be the person you thought he was," he told her. "He humiliated you, caused you pain, made you doubt that you were desirable. That was all him – it had nothing to do with you."

She hadn't realised that he'd read so much in her hesitancy, in her responses to him. She couldn't help wondering if she was transparent or if he was just very good at what he did. And she knew he was right – though knowing something and believing it were totally different things.

It had been such a long time since she'd been that hopeful young woman whose father had introduced her to the son of one of his friends; a young man who had proceeded to sweep her off her feet. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance – he'd been handsome, glamorous, with a reputation for being a playboy that had worried her, until he'd promised that he was ready to put all that behind him, ready to settle down. Like a fool she'd believed him.

"We decided to wait until we were married," she said, "I thought it meant he respected me, but it wasn't that at all and I found out later that he had other women, lots of them."

The wedding had been beautiful – she'd felt beautiful and she'd only just managed not to cry when her father had told her how proud he was of her, before walking her down the aisle. She'd believed her future was all mapped out but she couldn't have been more wrong; her honeymoon had robbed her of all those illusions.

"On the first night of our honeymoon, he – couldn't perform," she was unwilling to remember their excruciating fumbling, his growing frustration and how he had chosen to make her the target of it. "I thought that it might be the pressure of the wedding night, or the alcohol, but he just wasn't aroused. He was angry, said it was my fault, that he wasn't attracted to me. He wanted to restrain me – apparently that was what he needed, but I just couldn't…"

She closed her eyes, remembering how she had cried and probably even begged – how he'd flung accusations at her, how the abuse had followed her into the bathroom where she had gone to hide. "He said that I was frigid, that all the other women he'd screwed had turned him on."

Jethro was still beside her, but she couldn't look at him and think about this. She'd hidden in the bathroom for hours, even after her husband had stormed out of the bedroom. When she had eventually crept out she'd been numb and confused but even then she had thought that she ought to try – because he was her husband.

"He stormed off to the bar and apparently drank a lot more. When he came back I could smell the alcohol on him and cheap perfume from some other woman." The failure to consummate their marriage, the names and the insults hadn't been enough. The final humiliation had been after he returned; she'd found the cords in his luggage and offered herself and her self-respect to him, desperate to make it right.

"I offered to let him tie me up, but he laughed in my face."

She hadn't wanted to cry, but she felt the tears on her lashes and as she blinked they spilled over to slip down her cheek. Going home, alone, had been another humiliation. It was the one moment in her adult life that she had desperately wished for her mother. But her father had tried in his own way, arranging a quick annulment – so she could pretend it had never happened, only of course it took more than the stroke of a pen to do that.

Gibbs couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry. Cases had got to him before, criminals provoked a range of emotions in him and he wasn't known for holding back. But rarely had he felt such a glowering rage against a man he hadn't even met. Last night's vague desire to cause him pain solidified into a plan to track him down and make him suffer – but not right now. Right now this woman was his concern and he knew that his anger would not help her – though perhaps he didn't need to completely hide it either.

"Jenny, look at me," he said, his voice hoarse. When she turned her head he brushed away the tears she'd shed with the pads of his thumbs, his every gesture tender. One of his hands slipped around to cradle the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. He held nothing back, his need for her mingling with the tangled up emotions her story had provoked. He knew she probably tasted his anger – the sharp pang of it dissolving against something he was too scared to even try to put a name to.

He pressed her back onto the blanket, settling himself on top of her as they kissed. He wasn't going to press things too far, his intention was to offer comfort, not arouse her. But she needed to know that nothing about how he felt had changed. As they eased out of the kiss he rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, nuzzling her neck with his lips – holding her close.

"I wanted you to know," she said at last, "it's not you Jethro."

"I already knew that," he told her gently.

* * *

They meandered back to the hotel as the sun was setting, there hardly seemed to be any point in resisting the closeness that came as a consequence of sharing something so painful.

Tonight there was no question of having dinner in the restaurant – he didn't want to share her, didn't want to have to think about other people watching them. Tomorrow would mean a return to DC – he had a feeling the knowledge of what was to come had been praying on her mind all day, even if she hadn't mentioned it.

He wasn't naturally demonstrative, not any more. But he wanted her to feel special. So – dinner was ordered from room service; with wine for her, bourbon for him. The curtains were closed, the night shut out; a fire burnt gently in the grate as he pottered around in the room, while she soaked in the bath.

"You still there?" She called softly.

"Need a refill?" He paused in the doorway, wine bottle in hand, smiling at the sight of her practically up to her neck in bubbles, her hair piled up onto her head with a few strands curling on her shoulders.

"Just felt like having someone to talk to."

"You want me to wash you back?" His eyes flickered over her body as she slid forward – tightening at the sight of the water and bubbles slipping off the smooth, pale expanse of her back. It was impossible not to want to touch her.

He rubbed the sponge up and down – making an attempt at washing her back, but really just lost in the sensation. The tension ebbed out of her and he kept his movements slow and steady, smiling when she sighed and arched her back.

She hadn't been touched enough. Her body was soaking up his attentions – begging for more. She tilted her face to the side, watching his intent expression, deciding that he seemed to be enjoying this as much as she was. The lines around his eyes were creased in relaxation and as she admired the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips - she knew she could spend a lot of time just looking at him.

He leant over and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, "you about ready to get out?" When she nodded he reached for a towel, wrapping her in it as she stepped out of the bath. She should have felt exposed; she was naked after all and he wasn't looking away; but she knew this was different, she was different. She stood in his arms as he ran his hands over her – somewhere between drying her and touching her. She didn't care; she just didn't want him to stop.

But he pulled back, drawing her into the other room, sitting her on the bed, settling beside her. He unfastened her hair, letting it fall onto her shoulders, running his hands through it as she turned her head to catch his lips with hers, for a kiss that felt far more intimate than her nudity.

She lay on her side, still wrapped in the towel – watching him as he undressed. His body was lean, the muscles defined and he wore his years well; without trying to pretend they hadn't happened. She wanted to ask him about the scars – but wasn't sure he would answer. While she was still wondering he crawled back onto the bed, as naked as she was when his careful hands loosened her towel and pushed it away.

He did nothing more, stretching out beside her – watching, waiting. Then he took her hand and laid it gently on his hip, pressing down – moving it slowly up towards his waist. She rubbed her thumb over his skin and looked up at him, questioningly, as he lay back.

She knew he had basically just given her permission to touch him wherever and however she liked and for a moment the power of the gesture made her falter. But then she looked up; the desire in his eyes making her realise that this was as much about giving him pleasure as it was about giving her confidence.

Her hands drifted over his chest, a fingertip running over the most prominent scar; the question must have been in her eyes because he said quietly, "what I do can be dangerous." He knew it wasn't much of an answer, that she still had questions – but she nodded solemnly as though he'd told her enough and moved over him, pressing her lips, not to the scar as he'd half expected, but to a spot just above his heart.

His hands curled into the sheets as he groaned softly – not touching her was proving to be surprisingly difficult, exacerbated by the thoroughness of her exploration of his body. He gritted his teeth as she trailed a tentative hand along his length – the touch altogether too much and at the same time not nearly enough. Through almost closed eyes he looked over at her, seeing the flicker of uncertainty but also the need.

"Show me," she said quietly, "I want to know how to touch you."

He was more than happy to oblige, taking her hand in his, moving it up and down in long steady strokes, pressure and pace just right. It took her about 10 seconds to get it and just a little longer to work out that varying the stroke or the pace, keeping him guessing was going to drive him crazy. He groaned some more, squirming against her as she touched him, kissing him at the same time and then nibbling her way down his neck.

Somehow amidst all the touching and the kissing it seemed the most natural thing in the world to roll on top of him, although she didn't quite realise what she'd done until he thrust his hips up at her in a silent plea. His eyes were fixed on her body and the way she was touching him.

"You like this," she told him – leaning forward, arching her back. He didn't reply – unless you counted his hands squeezing her breasts and the urgent way his mouth plundered sat back – steadying herself against him as his hands caressed her thighs and hips.

"You said you liked being the one in control," he told her as he reached for the condoms.

She felt everything as she slipped onto him – the friction, the fullness, the feeling of being the one setting the pace that had her biting her lip to make it last. His hand was at her waist and he squeezed her lightly but otherwise left it up to her, far too busy enjoying the visual. Her hips shifted, his moved in counterpoint and her eyes drifted shut as they found a slow rhythm. She leant over him again; breasts pressing into his chest and his hand at the base of her spine kept her there through a long kiss. But she sat up again – picking up the pace again; watching the way he twisted with her – knowing he was forcing his eyes to stay open to watch her.

She rose fast and hard and almost without realising how close she was until her insides fluttered and her muscles clamped around him. Her head fell back as skilled fingers, his, pinched her clit and the flutters took her over – the orgasm slamming into her as she moved more urgently on him.

He hung on – knowing he wasn't there yet, though watching her had him so perilously close he could have let go; but he moved with her, slowing his movements a little as she came down. A lazy smile flitted across her face, her eyes were still glazed and the pleasure flush across her chest made him want to kiss her there. He was still thinking about that when she balanced both of her hands on his chest and started moving again.

This time was for him – she wanted to see him come apart, just for her. She was determined – reading his face and his body for clues now she knew that he liked this position because he could see her and touch her. And he had been right; she did like being in control, especially if it meant she got to make him lose his.

It was more arousing than she expected – she could feel herself building again as she watched his head thrashing back and forth on the pillows, his hands twisting in the sheets. But she didn't question it, moving a little faster, a little harder; loving it when his hands curved around her hips – guiding her movements. "God, Jen. Don't stop." His voice was hoarse, broken, there was sweat beading on his brow and she knew he was close because he could scarcely keep his eyes open.

He desperately tried to suck in oxygen – his heart hammering in his chest as she rocked her hips back and forth, grinding against him. The low gutteral groan escaped him as his body surged upwards into hers – the climax ripping through him. He knew he was gripping her hips – would probably leave bruises but didn't let go until she slumped forward onto him, mouth lapping at the salty skin of his throat.

He pulled her onto her side, both of them wincing as he slid out of her. She reached for him, slipping the condom away and he buried his fingers between her legs – knowing she hadn't come that time. It didn't take much - she gasped his name and buried her head in his shoulder, panting against him as her muscles clenched and released around him and her body begged for more.

* * *

She had no idea how long had passed; it could have been hours, or minutes. Neither of them had fallen asleep, instead they lay together, face to face, barely talking – as though words weren't really important at this point. Except that she knew time was running out, the day she'd promised herself was almost over.

"Are we leaving in the morning?" He didn't say anything, but he cupped her cheek with his hand, his touch gentle, careful and she read what he couldn't say in his eyes. "It's OK Jethro, I know it will be different when we go back."

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he said – the promise he hadn't been able to give her days before, falling from his lips easily now. His heart twisted at the thought of other people he had made that promise to – of all those other failures.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers and when she whispered, "I'm not scared anymore," he knew she had seen more than he had meant her to. That somehow she had caught a glimpse of those losses and was giving him comfort, when he should have been the one comforting her.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 11**

They looked like a totally different couple. She watched them out of the corner of her eye as she prepared their bill. Their heads were close together, they touched every now and again and she was glad that her hotel had once again worked its magic and allowed a couple to re-connect.

For reasons she couldn't quite explain, this couple in particular intrigued her. She saw hundreds of couples every year and beyond making sure they were enjoying their stay she never gave them another thought. But this couple was different and she found herself wondering about their story – how they'd met and what their lives were like.

Their chemistry was apparent even to a casual observer and she was heartened to see how much more aware of each other they were than when they'd first arrived. Mrs Mallard was smiling, whispering softly to her husband; his stern demeanour softened as he replied.

But the more she watched them, the more she picked up something else, something that she could best describe as a sadness in their interactions. It was as though this time was precious because it would have to be set aside. She wanted to believe she was imaging it – but she didn't think she was. Something was still wrong, but this was an external something. She wondered if one of them was seriously ill and then hoped she was wrong.

Whatever it was they were both effected by it – she almost mentioned it as they paid their bill, but she had no idea what to say. So instead she wished them a safe journey and told them she hoped to see them back soon.

* * *

"Has he called yet?" It was the third time Abby had asked that question and it was only a little past 11am. Tony looked at Ziva and then at McGee before turning his attention back to the woman hovering anxiously in front of his desk.

"Not yet," he told her. "But the trial starts tomorrow morning, he might not get in touch until then." It was Gibbs, so he was prepared to expect the unexpected – which included the possibility of him pitching up at the court at 8.55am tomorrow morning, crucial witness in tow. His 'gut' said different – but he wasn't planning to rely on that.

And, if the fact that Fornell had practically taken up residence meant anything then he wasn't the only one who expected Gibbs back sooner rather than later. "Go back to the lab," he told her gently. "If we hear anything I'll let you know."

* * *

They hadn't talked much, though they had made good time heading back to DC. This time they hadn't stopped to buy clothing, though she wasn't sure that jeans and a shirt were appropriate to give evidence in – but no doubt there would be a way to find her something.

She grimaced at the thought of the shapeless clothes in her closet and tried to imagine herself wearing them. She was more aware of her body than she had been in years and the idea of covering it in garments that ensured she didn't draw attention to herself didn't seem as good an idea as it once had. She smiled at the thought that she was going to have to go shopping before she remembered that there was a possibility that she might not live that long.

They'd made good time back to DC – and though he knew the sooner they were inside the Navy Yard the safer they'd be, he couldn't help wishing for just a little more traffic. It might have been better to spend the day in Georgia and drive back overnight. But it was too late now to second-guess himself.

The risk was greatest in the next few hours and there was also the question of what was going to happen in the long term. He wondered if Tobias had given any thought to that – whether he was planning to try to pack Jenny off into witness protection, or if she was supposed to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.

He couldn't think past the next twenty-four hours. There was no plan beyond that, no semblance of one. He thought she was probably having difficulty thinking about anything other than her appearance on the witness stand – but what was his excuse?

He pulled off the interstate – needing some coffee, but also so they could stretch their legs. Her eyes were worried as she followed him out of the car and he put an arm around her as she pulled out the cell phone McGee had left him and dialled a familiar number.

* * *

"Gear up," DiNozzo said as he put his phone down. The team looked up, surprised by this development and didn't move straight away. "Now," he snapped – the echo of Gibbs perhaps more apparent than he realised.

"What about Gibbs?" Ziva challenged, "aren't we supposed to be waiting for him?"

"Tell that to dispatch," Tony shrugged. "I just go where they send me." Her snort of derision wasn't exactly the response he was hoping for. "You can drive," he offered, "McGee get the truck."

"There is no one here." Ziva said as she looked around the park in frustration. They had been here for a few minutes and there was no sign of a crime scene. She didn't like this – it smelt a lot like a set up and she didn't understand why she seemed to be the only one who thought so. "Are you sure you have the right location?" She asked Tony who ignored the question and carried on looking around him, almost as though he was expecting something or someone.

The penny dropped and she was furious – with herself for not realising earlier and with him, for deceiving her.

"Ow!" Her punch to his shoulder was going to leave a bruise.

"I do not like people who lie to me," she reminded him – certain that she had made her point.

McGee, leaning against the truck, was mystified as to what they were arguing about. But long experience had taught him that it was sometimes better not to know. So he didn't ask."There's a car coming," he announced, distracting his colleagues from their glaring competition. His eyes widened as he recognised the car and belatedly he realised why Ziva had hit Tony. "You could have told us."

"He said tell no one," Tony defended himself and then as the car slowed he remembered why all the secrecy had been necessary. "Ziva, do you see anything?"

"No – and we were not followed." He nodded and stepped up to the car door as it opened. "Boss," he greeted warily, "we're clear just now – but we shouldn't hang about."

Gibbs nodded once and as he got out of the car he said, "Officer David." As Ziva stepped forward she saw the look that passed between Gibbs and the woman in the call and all her instincts told her that it meant trouble. "Take Ms Shepard and get her back to the Yard. Stop for nothing and no one – clear?"

"Of course."

"We'll be right behind you." He said turning back to the woman in the car, "but it's safer if we change cars."

"OK," she emerged carefully and Ziva saw the way her partner's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised that she didn't look the way she had when the team had first encountered her.

"Sorry boss," she didn't need to know that Gibbs had also seen Tony's reaction and had given him a head-slap.

Abby had been right, she realised as she started the engine and sped away without looking to see if the rest of the team was following. She wasn't surprised, it wasn't the first time the forensic scientist had seen something the rest of them had missed.

As she rounded a corner her companion turned to look at her. "Do you always drive like this?"

"We are in a hurry." Ziva responded. The park Gibbs had picked for their rendezvous was 20 minutes from the Yard – in her opinion too long to be out in the open. This wasn't the time to worry about the speed limit.

"And I thought Agent Gibbs drove fast." There was something in the way she said his title that sounded off, as though she hadn't been calling him that.

Ziva flicked a cursory glance at the woman in the passenger seat, who appeared to be holding her breath. She took in the red hair that fell past her shoulders and the green eyes that were no longer hidden behind glasses. She had very little doubt that this woman had been a temptation to Gibbs and it was none of her business whether or not he had resisted. But, she suspected that not everyone would feel that way.

* * *

As she stood at the centre of the bullpen Jenny could all to easily see Jethro, or Agent Gibbs as she was back to calling him, in this setting. She could imagine him giving orders, supervising his team. It was an environment that suited him and she was all too conscious of the fact that she didn't belong here.

Officer David seemed to recognise it too. For the first time she seemed uncertain and Jenny could only assume that she had been given no orders beyond getting her here. She also didn't seem to be much for conversation and Jenny was relieved to see Agent Fornell walk down the stairs.

"Ms Shepard," he seemed surprised about something, but his expression changed so fast she couldn't be sure. They'd spent time together over the last few months and she knew she wasn't even close to figuring him out. He was a difficult man to get to know and though she thought he might be human beneath the crusty and cynical façade she wasn't entirely sure.

"How's Agent Sachs?" The memory wasn't a pleasant one; she'd been scared, the Agent who'd been protecting her had been bleeding out right in front of her and nothing she did seemed to make any difference.

"Much better, thanks to you." She shrugged, embarrassed at the praise since she didn't think she had done very little beyond trying to stop the bleeding. Fortunately he didn't pursue the matter, looking over to Officer David who was just ending a call on her cell phone. "Gibbs?" he asked.

"Two minutes away," she responded curtly.

It really was only just two minutes later when Gibbs strode off the elevator – the rest of his team struggling to keep up. He shot Ziva a quick look of approval, ignored Fornell and focused his attention on Jenny.

"You OK?"

"You could have warned me about her driving," he almost smiled at that and she could see the relief in his eyes.

"Welcome to my world," Tony butted in and then realised that her remark hadn't been directed at him. "Sorry boss,"

"Need to talk to you," Fornell said.

"I hear they found your leak."

"It's not about the leak."

Gibbs nodded, recognising that Tobias' expression meant that it couldn't wait. His gaze slid back to Jenny; he wanted to touch her, reassure both of them. But he couldn't do that in front of his team and Fornell; whatever lay between them was just too private to be exposed to their scrutiny.

"That's my desk," he told her, "I'll be a couple of minutes. If you need anything, ask Agent DiNozzo." He pointed towards Tony, "if he gives you any trouble you have my permission to do this…" The headslap wasn't too hard, since it was more of a demonstration – which didn't mean that DiNozzo hadn't done something over the last few days that warranted the chastisement.

"Is that an effective teaching method?" Jenny asked.

"Not so far." He glanced at Tony and then at Ziva, "she doesn't leave your sight."

Fornell didn't mess around, once the elevator was stalled he said, "what did you do Jethro?" Gibbs bit back a reply to the effect that he had done what Fornell had asked him to and anything else was none of his damn business. Instead he returned Fornell's stare with interest. "Never mind – I don't want to know. Did DiNozzo tell you about Orloff?"

"What about him?"

His anger spiked when Fornell told him that the younger Orloff had come looking for him – and what his message had been. DiNozzo had handled the situation well, taking his responsibility to protect Abby seriously, which was a relief.

"What do you want to do?" Fornell said.

"Well, if he wants to meet me, lets not disappoint him." He hit the elevator switch and was out of the doors as soon as they opened. "McGee, I don't care how you do it, find Anton Orloff – you have 10 minutes. David, you're with me and you," he turned to Tony, "you need to stay with Ms Shepard."

Tony had been about to protest, because he didn't think he needed to be the one on protection duty. But then he saw the look in Gibbs' eyes and realised the responsibility he was being given.

He followed as Gibbs led her towards one of the conference rooms – but she stopped walking, hands on her hips and asked, "what's going on Jethro?" Tony held his breath, waiting to see if Gibbs would brush her question away. But instead he took her arm and stepped out of earshot.

Forced only to observe Tony watched their body language and what he saw told him Gibbs wasn't just in protector mode, he was emotionally invested in this case – in this woman. And the sentiment was clearly returned, because after a quiet conversation Jenny nodded.

"You don't let Ms Shepard out of your sight – for a moment." Gibbs said when they had settled her into one of the small, almost comfortable conference rooms. "No one else goes near her – just you and McGee. I'll send Abby up, so she can get her some clothes. If she needs to use the bathroom you make sure its empty and then keep everyone else out. I don't care if I'm gone all night – I don't care what anyone else says, or does. If the fire alarms go off or the building falls down, you stay with her. Got it?"

Tony swallowed, wishing for a moment that he was doing something less risky, like going with Gibbs and Fornell to needle a gangster. But he nodded, determined not to let Gibbs down. In a rare show of approval Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder and then stalked back to the squad room, already shouting at McGee for Orloff's location.

Taking a deep breath Tony stepped into the conference room. He could read the tension in Jenny Shepard; she looked scared but resolute, fragile but strong at the same time. His step faltered when he really looked at her, because the woman standing before him was beautiful in a way he couldn't even begin to understand, in a way that went beyond figure or bone structure. It was just there, a fact – incontrovertible. Something that could easily be overlooked, especially if you were shallow he thought ruefully.

"He'll be fine," he told her – assuming, correctly, that she was worrying about Gibbs. "This is what he does."

"You wish you were going with him," she pointed out.

"I did," he agreed, "but that was before I realised what it meant that he trusted me to stay here with you." Their eyes met and she didn't try to dispute his analysis, which only confirmed his suspicion that this woman was important to Gibbs. He gave her his best flirtatious smile and wasn't at all surprised when it made her laugh. "Tony DiNozzo," he said as he offered her his hand.

"Jenny Shepard," she responded as she took it. And the movie quote came easily to mind.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he told her.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 12**

Tony was good company; amusing and more sincere that she'd expected. Jenny liked him and not just because of his obvious devotion to Jethro. He had a good heart, though she suspected that he didn't realise that himself. There was something in the way he worked to hide the fact that he was just a little damaged that was all too familiar.

He broke off in the middle of a story about a case when there was a quiet tap on the door. She knew there was someone else there, someone he'd called 'probie' – though she was guessing that wasn't actually his name.

Tony conversed quietly with whoever was outside and then stepped aside to let in a young woman with dark hair and clothing – who appeared to be holding a stuffed hippo in her arms.

"Hi," the new arrival held out her hand and then realised it was the one bearing what was indeed a stuffed hippo. "Sorry," she tried again, looking awkward and slightly anxious. "I'm Abby,"

"You brought Bert?" Tony asked from his place leaning against the door; Bert, Jenny gathered, was the hippo.

"I thought Jenny might like him. I can call you Jenny, can't I?" Without waiting for an answer she squeezed the hippo and it made an_ interesting_ noise. "He always makes me feel better and I thought you might need cheering up, you can borrow him until Gibbs gets back."

"Thank you," she took the hippo – a little gingerly and as she put it down on the couch she looked over at Tony, who seemed to be trying not to laugh.

"I think you're really brave." Abby said quietly, "going up against the mob I mean."

"Tell me that tomorrow morning," Jenny replied, equally quietly. She sat back down and watched Abby try to decide whether she should sit as well. Something seemed to be making the young woman nervous – and she couldn't imagine that it was her.

"Gibbs will fix everything," Abby told her as she finally decided on perching on the edge of the couch, looking ready to jump up again at any moment. Jenny hid a smile at the all too evident hero worship. "The silver fox won't let anything bad happen."

"Silver fox?"

"That's my name for him – because of the hair and the eyes and well, other things." Her own eyes went wide suddenly, "but don't worry, he only likes red heads. Well, there was a blond once, but that just didn't seem right. So now it's definitely only red heads."

"Abby," Tony said quietly, the warning in his tone all too apparent.

"Sometimes I talk too much," she confided. "So, Gibbs said you need clothes for court tomorrow. I hate court, but it's pretty much me or Ziva and she'd rather kill someone that go shopping so…"

"That's very kind of you but…" Jenny hesitated, trying to be tactful because Abby was wearing a very short kilt, long socks, boots with enormous platforms and a tight t-shirt with a skull and cross bones emblazoned on it.

"Oh, I wouldn't make you wear my stuff! Though you totally could if you wanted to. My friend Angel works at a store downtown – they only stock designer stuff and he has such a great eye. He dresses Brain Matter, they're one of my favourite bands. Anyway – he's going to find you something and drop it off tomorrow morning. Something classy, I promise." While Jenny was still trying to process that she pulled out a cell phone, "he said I should get some photos and tell him what size you wore – in everything."

Jenny stood and let Abby take the photos and then scribbled down her sizes – confused by the fact that the woman in the Target store had made her buy a smaller size than normal.

When they were done Abby fidgeted for a moment and then pulled Jenny into a hug that threatened to robe her of breath. "He really likes you," she whispered, before pulling back to gaze into Jenny's eyes. "I know you like him."

"I do," she agreed, a remark that earned her a bright smile and another hug.

"Abby, she needs to be alive to testify." Tony pointed out.

"OK – got to go!" She bounced away, like a kid on too much sugar. "Bye Tony, bye Jenny."

"Is she always like that?" Jenny asked when they had the room to themselves again. Tony considered,

"Actually – that was a little odd, even for Abby. I think she was feeling shy."

* * *

"I thought you'd be taller," Gibbs looked over at Fornell, rolling his eyes at the attempt at humour. Fornell shrugged, equally unimpressed.

They'd run Anton Orloff to ground at his office, which wasn't the backroom of a bar but a glass tower-block, alongside law firms and auditors. There was a bustle about the place; a sense of purpose and Gibbs wasn't surprised that this man had made money. He had the certainty and arrogance of success – which only contributed to Gibbs' dislike of him.

"Got your message," Gibbs said – refusing to rise to the bait. "Not sure we have much to talk about."

"Oh I doubt that's true."

"She's going to give evidence." He said, ignoring Orloff when he gestured towards the seats around his conference table. "But you already know that."

"Do I?"

"I thought you said he was smart?" Gibbs looked over at Fornell, who shrugged again.

"I said he was smarter than his brother."

"The double act is good," Orloff chipped in. "I can see you've practised it. I'm even impressed by Officer David – who looks as though she'd love to kill me and not leave any trace. But I think I'll wait until tomorrow morning to see if Ms Shepard actually goes through with her testimony."

"Anything happens to her and it's the end for you, for your family."

"Is that a threat Agent Gibbs? Will you vow revenge – chase me down, make me suffer?"

"I won't need to. You think this is another friendless girl you can brush aside? She has a position, a business, she deals with people who have influence." He turned to Fornell, "what's the name to that thing – the prize? The one the guy she publishes won?"

"A Pulitzer," Fornell offered.

"You ever read a book that won a Pulitzer?" Gibbs asked, when Fornell shook his head he turned back to Orloff. "We don't read much," he offered, "but our bosses do, and so do their bosses, Senators, people like that. Actually they might not read the books; but they'll pretend they have. You kill this woman and it doesn't just disappear. People like that, they write letters to papers, talk about it over dinner and suddenly my boss and his boss get calls. The calls mean pressure to catch whoever is responsible and where do you think all that pressure gets directed?"

"You are making threats," Orloff pointed out.

"Nah, not threats. This is more an exercise in orientation – so you know what to expect."

"All that trouble for a woman who isn't even a danger to you," Fornell said – picking up where Gibbs had left off. "She doesn't know your secrets, can't tell people where you hide your money. She isn't going to expose your operation."

"Your brother, that's a different story." Gibbs pointed out, "he's the risk, the one who can't keep his temper – doesn't like women saying 'no' to him."

"He's my half brother," Orloff corrected.

"He's the past," Fornell told him, "you know it, I know it. If he gets away with it this time you think he'll learn his lesson?" Fornell didn't wait for an answer. "When your father dies he'll have you exhorting protection money out of stores – it'll be the old days all over again. He's more of a dinosaur than Gibbs is."

Gibbs recognised greed and ambition when he saw it and he knew he was looking at it now. This man's response was going to be crucial, the power lay in his hands – but he couldn't tell if he was going to exercise that power or not.

"It's a choice between family and business," he told Orloff, "and only you can make it."

* * *

It was good to be home. He took a shower, changed his clothes and spent a little time with his boat. But it just wasn't possible to relax with Tobias' parting words playing over and over in his head. "If you're right," Fornell had said as they left Orloff's office, "he'll be a far more dangerous enemy than his brother." He hadn't stuck around for a reply, because he knew there was nothing Gibbs could say to that and he had already made it clear that the FBI would be taking over responsibility for Jenny's security in the morning.

It was out of his hands. But she was still very much on his mind. A woman who had snuck under his skin so carefully and yet so completely he didn't feel entirely comfortable with her out of reach. He finished his coffee, grimacing when he realised it was cold and headed out, pausing only to pick up a blanket from the back of the couch. The one he used on the nights he didn't make it to bed.

When he slipped quietly into the conference room Tony was stretched out in the chair, but he was awake, just; blinking blearily at the light from the corridor. "Boss?"

"Go home, get some sleep." Gibbs told him. Tony nodded, glancing over towards his charge as he got to his feet and moved quietly across the room.

Jenny was on the couch, apparently sleeping, though she stirred as Tony crept out. The narrow couch didn't look too comfortable – but there was very little he could do about that. Just for a moment Gibbs imagined picking her up and carrying her back to his house, letting her sleep in a real bed; sharing it with her as he had done the night before.

He made do with gently laying the blanket over her, making sure she was warm enough. This time she did wake, her eyes opening as he couldn't quite stop himself from touching her. They watched each other in the dim light, "I'm glad you're back," she said quietly, turning towards him. "Is everything OK?"

"Go back to sleep," he told her, reaching for her hand, her touch enough to ground him.

She watched him for a moment; it was too much to expect that she hadn't noticed his evasion but instead of calling him on it she said, "will you stay?" He nodded and then settled beside her on the couch as she curled her body into his and pulled the blanket so that it covered him as well.

"Sleep Jen, you've a big day tomorrow," he buried his hand in her hair, rubbing his fingers gently against her skull until her breathing evened out and she fell back to sleep. "It's going to be all right," he told her, pressing his lips to her hair – hoping he sounded more convinced that he felt.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 13**

He was gone when she woke; though he'd left a cup of coffee in his place. It wasn't an entirely fair trade, but she was in sore need of the caffeine so she wasn't going to complain. She poked her head out of the conference room and found Officer David in the corridor, waiting for her it seemed. "Gibbs said I should show you showers." She was too intimidating to disagree with, so Jenny nodded and followed her in silence, trying not to think what it meant that it was morning already.

Jethro had been singularly communicative the night before, or at least he hadn't told her what had happened when he had gone with Agent Fornell to see Anton Orloff. His body language had communicated all sorts of things, which she had decided not to call him on. It wasn't the first time she'd had the sense that there was something going on that she didn't know about – something important. But he was nowhere to be seen and Officer David wasn't exactly encouraging of confidences or conversation – so there really wasn't any point in asking her to fill in the blanks.

The locker room was empty when they reached it and clearly would be remaining that way. "There are towels on the bench, Gibbs is bringing your clothes, I will wait outside – no one will disturb you."

"Thank you."

Had she really told Jethro that she wasn't scared? Now Jenny wasn't so sure. All those months when she had struggled with decisions about her future, her dissatisfaction warring with loyalty to her family's history and in the end the future was out of her hands. Maybe she should just let the FBI take her off into witness protection – leave everything and everyone behind? But she knew if she let that happen the people she was giving evidence against would have won. Even without killing her they'd have proved that she couldn't stand up against them and hold onto her identity and, whatever the cost, that was unacceptable.

The shower was a refuge – perhaps the last one she would encounter and she let the water pour over her as though it could drown out everything else.

* * *

Abby had hugged him, holding onto him tightly for longer than normal. He'd had to pry her out of his arms and remind her, quietly, about the clothes he had come to collect.

She'd started to say something, probably about Jenny, but he'd stopped her with a finger placed over her lips – shaking his head. She'd seen too much, she always saw too much; but this time she nodded, letting him go without saying anything else. Not that he had the words to answer the questions he'd stopped her from asking and, even if he could make sense of how he felt, it wasn't Abby who he should try to explain it to.

As he approached Ziva her expression was carefully blank; too careful. Sometimes she had a way at looking at her colleagues as though she was all too aware of the flaws and failings that made them human – and this was one of those moments. But she was another of the people he had no words for and she, at least, seemed not to expect him to explain as he stepped past her.

The hiss of the water made him think about stripping off and joining Jenny in the shower – something he hadn't allowed himself to do while they were in Georgia. His mind supplied the image of her body; wet, slippery and all too willing and he had to sternly remind himself that this was neither the time nor the place. He was almost relieved when she shut the water off and emerged wrapped in a large while towel.

His expression might have given away that he was still thinking about what the towel covered, because she blushed. "You have a one track mind," she told him.

He shrugged. There was no point in denying what he had been thinking about, though he was grateful for her attempt at levity. Especially when he could see the shadows in her eyes. He wasn't prepared to admit it, but his gut was twisted tight and it had been a very long time since he had been this scared.

He was making a habit of stopping women from talking today, laying down the garment bag Abby had given him and reaching for Jenny. She didn't say anything, but as she stepped into his embrace her fingers curled into his shirt and her head fell against his chest.

She soaked the moment up, soaked up the man and the way he made her feel - because she didn't know if she would have the chance again. Neither of them said anything, because after all what was there to be said? But the silence wasn't easy or comfortable – it was layered with fears and brimming with emotion.

Clearly she should never have doubted Abby and her friend, because the dress was perfect. The fabric was soft and expensive, its dark chocolate colour making her hair look like flames. The cowl neck gave the dress elegance and its cut emphasised a slim waist that she hadn't really been aware of having. The shoes were high and squeezed her toes, but she didn't expect she'd be walking too far wearing them.

"Fornell's here," Jethro said, putting his phone away. He hadn't budged, watching her dress – the intimacy comforting rather than intrusive, allowing her pretend they were pottering around their bedroom, instead of standing in a shabby locker room.

She stepped before him and the words died in his throat; telling her she looked beautiful was just too insignificant somehow. He kissed her cheek instead, his fingertips stroking over her throat as his lips lingered against her skin. "I'm ready," she told him.

Finally he made himself let her go, "I'll see you in court."

* * *

Fornell had been right. She was an exemplary witness. Calm and controlled, the accuracy of her memory devastating – solid even under a cross-examination that relentlessly questioned what she had seen.

He had been unsettled for all of the time she had been out of his sight; his gut only slightly mollified by the number of people Tobias had brought to accompany her to court and stay with her while she was waiting to give evidence. The security effectively kept him away from her and though they had both known that was what would happen, it wasn't the same as living through it.

His team had lingered quietly in the background and though Ziva was clearly desperate for something more exciting to do, it was Tony who was keeping her in check. He didn't have the head-space right now to wonder what DiNozzo's motives were – but he wasn't going to complain about the sudden burst of discretion.

Gibbs slipped into the back of the courtroom as she took the witness stand – walking easily in the impossibly high heels. The dress Abby's friend had found was understated and conservative and yet still a million miles away from what she had been wearing when they had first met.

Right now she was a mysterious and confusing blend of the same woman and somehow an entirely different one. This was the woman who had been there all the time, hiding in the shadows and now at last she was emerging. He knew enough about bravery to recognise hers – even in the Marines he had understood that physical courage was only part of the story.

Across the courtroom attorneys and family members surrounded Grigory Orloff. The fact that Anton was among them made Gibbs think that he had chosen family over business – or at least determined that he would bide his time; which was no help to Jenny. Although it was possible that Anton had concluded that if Grigory went to prison he would have to take control of the business anyway. In that position he might have enough clout to hold off demands for revenge against the woman who had been the prosecution's star witness against his brother.

Her voice was low, but clear – her every word carefully considered, the horror of what she had witnessed controlled. Gibbs glanced over at the jury and saw they were listening intently, the power of her testimony evident in its restraint. Grigory Orloff on the other hand was looking angry and possibly just a little afraid.

He knew that the danger hadn't passed entirely – but harming Jenny now wouldn't result in a miss-trial. Though that didn't mean she was safe from vengeance.

* * *

She'd known he was there, of course and she was surprised to learn how unobtrusive he could be. When they were alone together her senses were filled with him and somehow she had assumed that he would have a similar effect on her when other people surrounded them. But it wasn't like that. She felt safe but not overwhelmed and it was easy to focus on giving evidence, on not letting the defense attorney trip her up.

A recess was called shortly after she left the stand and she breathed a little easier. Although with all the people surrounding her the one she most wanted close, seemed to be keeping his distance. "I need some air," she said, only realising a moment later that she had given an order – not made a request. But the FBI agents were well trained and deferred to Fornell.

"Not a good idea," he told her.

"Nevertheless I'd like to go outside." She stood her ground and he hesitated, before looking over his shoulder to where she suspected Gibbs was and muttering something under his breath before giving way to her quiet demand.

As her entourage emerged onto the courtroom steps she recognised that it might not have been the best time to make those demands. Grigory Orloff and his family was out there as well, but she didn't falter, refusing to allow their presence intimidate her.

"You OK?" A low voice beside her raised goose-bumps on her skin and she turned her head to see that Jethro had negotiated his way through the FBI agents to reach her side.

"Getting there." They stood quietly together and she couldn't help but let her gaze drift back towards Orloff. He was smoking and as he finished his cigarette he tossed the butt away and then ground it under his heel. He was looking at her as he did it and she supposed his intention was that she should recognise that he was threatening to do the same to her. But she wasn't afraid of him and it wasn't because Jethro and the others were standing with her, it was because she could see his fear.

Gibbs watched her – wondering if she had any idea how commanding she had become since she had stepped down from the witness stand; even Fornell was responding to her authority.

And then it happened, when he was looking at her rather than what was going on around them. There was no warning, no prickling of his senses until a split second before, when it was already too late, and some instinct he couldn't even put a name to made him look around.

Everything moved in slow motion, except the bullets. He did the only thing he could – crashing his body into hers, so they hit the ground hard in a tangled heap.

"Jenny!"

Someone called her name and over the roaring of his heartbeat he knew that the voice in question belonged to him. But as he covered her body, protecting her from the volley of shots all he could see was her stillness.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

A/N - thanks for the reviews, sorry about the cliffhanger end to the last chapter - it had to be done. Sorry, just dealing with some words that seemed to have eaten in yesterdays version of this chapter

**Part 14**

"Jenny," he called her name again and this time her eyes fluttered open, reminding him for a fleeting moment of lying in bed and watching her wake. He moved his hands over her body, checking for blood – relieved when he found none.

"I'm OK," she breathed, reaching out to touch him, "Jethro, I'm OK."

"Gibbs," he looked up to see Fornell standing over them, "she wasn't the target." Beyond his old friend he could see Grigory Orloff's body lying on the courtroom steps. A couple of FBI agents had moved over to him to offer assistance – but he could tell from their body language that there was no help they could give.

A little distance away Anton Orloff picked himself up from the ground – the men who had failed to protect his brother already surrounding him. Just before the ranks closed around him he met Gibbs' gaze and nodded once in his direction.

Gibbs shuddered, knowing that he had made a deal with the devil with Jenny's life as part of the bargain.

"Get Ms Shepard inside," Fornell ordered and Gibbs released his grip on her – letting the FBI agents team move her swiftly to cover. "She needs medical treatment," he heard someone say but he didn't move or look up. His hands were shaking and he felt sick.

He closed his eyes for a second, but it wasn't Jenny's face that he saw. He'd saved her, though the cost was Grigory Orloff's life and having Anton Orloff at the helm of the family business. He'd saved her, as he hadn't been able to save Shannon and Kelly. The accusation resounded in his head – and he had no defence against it

It wasn't his crime scene and, for once, he didn't fight for control of it. He stayed out of the way as everyone else set about doing their jobs, scarcely sparing a thought as to the whereabouts of his own team. At some point he found a coffee and sipped it slowly, despite the fact that it tasted like crap.

"Jethro?" He looked up to find Tobias standing in front of him.

"How's it looking?" He made himself ask.

"Like a hit on Orloff." Fornell pulled a face, "pretty much how it's supposed to look."

"You think Anton took him out?"

"You don't?" Gibbs shrugged, "we'll probably never pin it on him. The car was stolen and one of Orloff's guys conveniently id'd the shooter as being a foot soldier for a rival crew. We'll be up to our necks trying to prevent a gang war for a few months, enough time for Anton to take control." The two men contemplated that scenario in silence until Gibbs roused himself to ask,

"Where's Jenny?"

"Gone to hospital to be checked out. She hit her head pretty hard when you put her down. DiNozzo went with her." After a pause he added, "you did the right thing." And though Gibbs thought he was referring to the way he had protected Jenny, it was just possible that he was also talking about the deal he seemed to have struck with Anton Orloff.

"Yeah," he agreed, not questioning it.

"We'll keep someone with her – but these guys aren't coming after her." Gibbs nodded, recognising the precaution but agreeing that it likely wouldn't be needed. That nod from Orloff had told him as much. "So you want to tell me why you look like you've seen a ghost?" Gibbs didn't answer, pushing himself to his feet and throwing his empty coffee cup into the trash.

"Do me a favour and watch her back Tobias," he said as he walked away.

* * *

Tony sat in an uncomfortable hospital chair and tried not to worry about what was going on with Gibbs. But he was just too familiar with his boss not to realise that there was definitely something.

He genuinely hadn't seen a hit on Orloff coming. But he could understand why Gibbs had reacted as though Jenny was the target. It was a chance they just couldn't take. He was pretty sure she'd be OK – she'd been lucid on the way over here, though she was going to be bruised as hell from the way Gibbs had pushed her down.

DiNozzo might not know a great deal about relationships, but he knew enough to recognise the real thing when he saw it and he was pretty sure that Gibbs recognised it as well. Which raised the question of why he wasn't here now, pacing the corridor, demanding to know when he could see her.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. "Where's Gibbs?" he asked, unable to contain his surprise at the sight of Fornell walking towards him.

"Don't ask," Fornell replied, "she OK?"

"They're x-raying her arm now. Did he go back to the Yard?"

"DiNozzo," Fornell sighed, clearly finding this difficult. "Do you think that she knows?"

"Knows what?" The response to that question was a look loaded with significance and though he didn't want to admit it, Tony realised exactly what he was being asked. "He never talks about it," he said, thinking back to the aftermath of the explosion when the secret of Gibbs' family had been revealed. "Even Ducky didn't know."

"Diane knew," Fornell shrugged as he dropped that minor bombshell. "She kept it to herself though."

"That why you think he might have told Jenny?"

"Told Jenny what?" A soft voice behind them asked. Tony groaned as he looked up to see Jenny Shepard standing there, looking at them. There was a nasty graze along her arm and a cut on her cheek – but what he really noticed was that she looked worried. "Does this have something to do with where Jethro is?"

Fornell looked at Tony, Tony back looked at Fornell. He wasn't going to be the one to spill the secret – even if he thought that she needed to know.

"I'm pretty sure Gibbs has gone home," Fornell said, hoping that might divert her.

"Is he all right? He wasn't hurt?"

"He wasn't hurt," Fornell agreed. "DiNozzo, why don't you get out of here – I'll take care of this." Tony was surprised to be let off the hook, but he certainly wasn't planning to argue. He nodded to both of them and then got out of there as fast as he could.

"What's going on?" She asked as Tony had made an extremely hasty exit. Her body was bruised, she wanted a long soak in a hot bath – but not until she knew what was going on with man who had scarcely left her side for days and now was nowhere to be found. "Is it because the case is over now?" She asked, her voice cracking a little, because she didn't believe that Jethro would cast her aside like that.

Fornell sighed, running a hand through his hair. He sat down in the seat DiNozzo had just vacated. Jenny remained standing, watching him avidly and then she slumped into the seat beside him. "I think I deserve to know," she said, "and you're the only one here."

"More fool me," he grumbled and then sighed again. His discomfort making it clear that whatever he had to say she probably wasn't going to enjoy hearing. "Gibbs had a wife and daughter," he said, not prepared to look at her and tell her this. "While he was in the Gulf on his second tour his wife, Shannon, witnessed a murder. It was a local drug dealer and when she stepped up to identify him there were threats. Gibbs didn't know anything about it – he was in the thick of the fighting and then he was hurt and in a coma. An agent was assigned to protect her but someone took him out while he was driving – Shannon and Gibbs' daughter, Kelly, were in the car with him."

"They were both killed?" She hardly needed to see him nod in confirmation.

"They told Gibbs when he came out of the coma. It was a NCIS case – it's how they recruited him in the first place."

"Did you think about any of that when you asked him to protect me?"

"Not as much as I should have," he admitted, "but we didn't have a lot of time to plan and I didn't think he'd..."

"I understand," she said, burying her head in her hands, because Fornell wasn't the only one who hadn't expected that she and Gibbs would become personally involved. Under the circumstances she could hardly blame him for the mistake. "I want to see him. Will you drive me?"

"Might not be a good idea."

"Well, that's my problem." When he hesitated she said, "I don't know where he lives and I could sit outside the Navy Yard and wait for him, but I'd prefer not to."

"I think I'd prefer it if you didn't to do that as well."

She had never thought of herself as a proud woman – but having to rely on someone else to take her to see Jethro was just a little humiliating. She swallowed a spurt of anger, reminding herself that he hadn't been playing games, that he'd probably never intended to get involved with her and that he was the one whose family had been murdered while he was serving his country.

* * *

Alone in his basement Gibbs was paying no attention to the shell of his boat. Instead his attention was held by the old photographs he had spread out across the work bench, the cassette player was within reach; along with a bottle of bourbon.

The smiling faces of his wife and daughter gazed up at him. A perfect moment, frozen in time. He would give everything he had to be back in that moment, holding tightly onto his girls; fighting for their lives the way he had fought for Jenny's.

He knew that if he had failed to protect her he would be consumed by guilt right now. He honestly hadn't expected to be feeling guilty when she was, to all intents and purposes, fine. But protecting her, coming up with a deal that kept the mob off her back, had reminded him of how he had failed his own family.

If he could do it for Jenny, why hadn't he been able to help Shannon in the same way? It didn't matter that he hadn't been there, that he wasn't the same person anymore, that he had years of experience now. All that mattered was that he couldn't answer the question, couldn't account for his own failures.

He glanced down at Shannon's smiling face – touching it with his fingertip, knowing she wouldn't want him to torture himself like this. But there was nothing he could do to change that.

The sound of footsteps on the basement steps drew his attention back from the past. High heels. He sighed, he really didn't want to face Jenny right now.

He didn't move from the bench as she walked into the basement, though he did attempt to push the photographs out of sight. He knew his body language made it clear that he wasn't in the mood for conversation and he hoped she would take the hint. He didn't want to hurt her, he just had nothing to say to her.

He was surprised when she didn't speak, watching him in silence from the bottom of the steps. Eventually he forced himself to look over at her – taking in the scrape on her cheek and the bruises on her arm.

There was no need to ask if someone had told her about his family, it was written all over her face. "Tobias told me," she said, answering the question he hadn't been able to ask. "I made him." He shrugged, taking a swallow of the bourbon to drown out the prickle of awareness at her presence; which only fueled his guilt even more.

She moved carefully to his side and he flinched, expecting her to try to touch him. But she reached past him to draw out the photographs he had tried to hide. He waited for whatever trite expression of sympathy she would come out with, determined to maintain his silence and just get through the moment.

"I wish you could have saved them as well," she said quietly. Her comment so unexpected it drew his eyes up to her face. She smiled sadly at him and then looked down at the photograph again. Carefully she pushed it over towards him, positioning it right in front of him. "Agent Fornell is allowing me to go home," she said, "he's going to leave someone with me, but he seems to think the Orloff family will be leaving me alone. I wouldn't have disturbed you – but I wanted you to know how grateful I am."

"You have nothing to be grateful for," he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"You saved me." For a fleeting moment she touched his hand, but she pulled back immediately. "Thank you." She said as she turned and walked away from him, reaching the top of the steps before he could bring himself to speak.

"Take care of yourself Jenny." He knew he should say what he felt, try to make her understand, beg her to give him another chance, to hold onto him. But he couldn't find the words.

"You too," she whispered just before she slipped out of sight.

* * *

It had taken all of her strength to walk away from him when he was so obviously in pain. But she knew she couldn't offer him the comfort he needed, because she wasn't the person that he needed.

At the top of the steps her knees buckled and she had to reach out to the wall to steady herself. She closed her eyes and felt the warm, damp tears slip over her cheeks. She had meant it when she said he had saved her. She wasn't entirely sure who she was becoming, but she knew she wasn't the same woman she had been. Her only regret was that she wouldn't get to share that journey with the man who had helped her embark upon it.

"Jenny?" She didn't know where Tony had appeared from, but she somehow wasn't surprised that he had come to check on Gibbs for himself. Fornell was a step behind him, looking just as concerned

"I'm all right," she told them, pushing herself away from the wall and taking a shaky step forward. "I'm ready to go home now," she said, "I've said what I needed to." She glanced over at Tony, who looked torn, as though he wasn't sure where he should be right now. "I think he could use some company," she offered – hoping DiNozzo was the right choice for that. When he hesitated for a moment longer she forced herself to smile, aware that her cheeks were still wet from the tears she had shed. "Please don't tell him I was crying," she whispered, not really sure why that suddenly seemed so important.

"Shall we go?" Fornell said and she nodded, forcing herself not to look back as she followed him out to the car. Not that it mattered, as they drove away she knew that she had left a part of herself behind in that basement.

* * *

He was still looking at the photograph when DiNozzo came down the stairs. He didn't bother to acknowledge the presence of his senior agent, who took up residence in the corner of the room. Gibbs had no idea how long they sat there in silence, the weight of Tony's stare was the only evidence of his presence. The lecture he was expecting never came; not that he needed to hear it from anyone else anyway. The grace and dignity of her exit had just underscored what he already knew; that she was a woman unlike any other in his life and he was a fool to let her walk away.

"You going to sit there and look at me all night, DiNozzo?" He said when he couldn't stand the silence any longer, "or you here to work?"

"Whatever you need," Tony told him, getting to his feet and picking up a scrap of sandpaper.

Gibbs watched for a moment, making sure DiNozzo wasn't going to do any damage. But his attention soon wandered and he ran his hand along the hull of the boat – hesitating over the place where the name should be. It was empty at the moment, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he filled in the blank and now he knew exactly what that name was going to be. But not yet. He wasn't ready yet.

The End

(yes, really... except for an epilogue coming soon)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N at the end.

**Epilogue**

_Some time later_

The boat was almost finished, though it remained unnamed. He knew that it meant he was reluctant to let her go; but it was hard to do that when the woman was haunting him.

He hadn't seen or heard from her since the evening she'd left his basement, but the press was filling in the gaps and articles about her had a tendency to mysteriously find their way to his desk. And even without that, he dreamt about her on more nights than he was prepared to admit.

She'd had a busy few months, selling the family business and defending herself articulately against those who had decried the end of tradition in that decision. The criticism had petered out – after all it was difficult to be critical of a woman who had ploughed all of the money from the deal into a charitable foundation, set up in the name of the young woman whose death she had witnessed.

She was too cautious to talk about the case, or the Orloff family, in the only interview she gave. But her prominence and her discretion made it less likely that Anton, now in full control of the family business, would regard her as a threat.

She seemed to be coping with the press interest. Earlier in the week he had found a clipping slipped between two case files. Apparently her foundation had organised a creative writing workshop for a group of kids from one of the city's poorest neighbourhoods, led by an author even he had heard of. It was clear that Jenny had used her connections to persuade him to become involved and the photograph accompanying the article had caught her in profile, watching as the kids poured over the newspaper that they had produced during the workshop.

The fact that he knew what was happening in her life was just enough to take the edge off his thirst – but it did nothing to slake his need for her. If anything it stoked the fire even more, now she was transforming at one remove and all he wanted to do was bury himself in her body and in her life.

But he knew he'd burnt his bridges.

She was the kind of woman it was difficult to stop thinking about, though he didn't realise how much she was on his mind until the Friday afternoon he found himself parked a couple of streets away from her offices – DiNozzo in tow. They were on their way to hand over some documents relating to a case that was due to go to court the following week. The task and the inevitable contact with bureaucracy distracted him until it was time to leave, though they did nothing to improve his mood.

His companion said nothing as he took a route back to the car that led them past the front door of the foundation. But he thought DiNozzo was surprised when he stopped walking and just looked, his hand tightening on his coffee cup.

"It can't hurt to ask how she is," Tony said quietly, "since we're passing."

"I know how she is DiNozzo, you've been leaving me cuttings about her for months." To his credit DiNozzo met his stare without flinching, standing his ground and refusing to apologise for breaking the cardinal rule of meddling with the boss' personal life.

Looking past him towards the building Gibbs told himself that maybe it would help to see her, let the reassurance that she was fine give him the closure that time alone had failed to provide.

With DiNozzo on his heels he pushed the door open – more curious about the organisation she had established for herself than he cared to admit. He was pleasantly surprised by what he saw and he knew from the smile that crept across DiNozzo's face that he wasn't the only one.

The exposed walls and wooden floors were perfectly suited to the open plan offices – set off by large windows, which made the space light and airy. The atmosphere was busy and vibrant; as they waited at reception a group of pregnant women, their partners and assorted small children passed them; all talking animatedly.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi" Gibbs rolled his eyes as DiNozzo leant against the reception desk, wearing his most charming smile. "We'd like to see Jenny Shepard."

"I think she's in a meeting right now – but I'll check with her assistant. Who shall I say is here to see her?"

"NCIS," Tony told her – flashing his identification and then lowering his voice to a confidential whisper he added, "we're the ones who protected her when, you know..."

"Oh!" Her eyes were wide with admiration, "she's amazing, so brave. It's wonderful that you protected her."

"Well, we were just doing our job miss."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs intervened before the admiration went to his head. While they waited for her to speak to Jenny's assistant, his gaze roamed around the offices; taking in the sense of purpose in the staff, the low buzz of activity.

"OK, Ms Shepard is just finishing her meeting, but her assistant is going to let her know you're here. Can I get you anything while you're waiting?"

"That won't be necessary Ellie, I can take care of Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo. "

Her voice washed over him like a warm summer shower and finally he acknowledged, to himself at least, how much he had missed the sound of it these last few months.

"Hello Jethro," she said as he turned around to face her.

"Jen," he said – tilting his head to drink in the sight of her. Her eyes captivated him, sparkling with life and there was a new confidence in the way she held herself; it was obvious that her new environment suited her.

He let his eyes linger, enjoying what she was wearing. A white shirt and a soft grey jumper that he suspected was cashmere, teamed with jeans and high heeled boots that show-cased legs that went on for ever. Everything she wore drew subtle attention to her curves and a hint of a smile crept over his face at the change in her body language – this was a woman who was comfortable with her body, who exuded sexiness.

Her hair was pulled into a messy knot and his fingers itched to bury themselves in the soft weight, take her hair down and let it fall over her shoulders in waves.

He knew that he ought to say something, that standing and staring probably wasn't the best way to greet someone he hadn't seen in months. But it was easier to just look at her, to remember how close they had become in the days they had spent together and how empty he'd felt since she'd been gone.

"Am I going to get an introduction?" He'd completely overlooked the woman standing beside Jenny and he took small comfort from the blush that meant Jenny had forgotten her as well.

"Sorry Nat," she was tiny – with hair as black as a raven, cut short into spikes. Despite the dark business suit she reminded him of Abby, an impression reinforced by the stud in her nose and the dark make up. She grinned at Jenny and raised her eyebrow expectantly. "Natalie Cromwell – this is Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, from NCIS. Natalie, is my accountant," she explained, though the easy camaraderie told Gibbs that the two women were probably friends as well.

"I'm the one who tries to stop her from giving all her money away," Natalie said, smiling conspiratorially at them.

"I'm hardly impoverished," Jenny responded, rolling her eyes at what was clearly an old argument.

"Because I'm very good at what I do," the accountant looked at her watch, "I have to go. It was nice to meet you – Jenny, we'll talk next week."

Jenny showed her to the door and then turned back to her visitors. "So, what can I do for NCIS?"

"We were passing," Tony said when Gibbs showed no sign of explaining, "thought we'd drop by and say hello."

"Is that right?" But she wasn't looking at Tony as she asked the question and Gibbs didn't miss the flash of fire in her eyes when he shrugged in response. But her expression softened almost at once and he wondered what she had seen in his eyes that had tempered her anger. "I'd offer you the grand tour, but there isn't much to see. Just a lot of people working – and my office."

"I'll stay here while you show Gibbs around," Tony offered with a lamentable lack of subtlety, "keep Ellie company."

"Are you flirting with my staff Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Not if you two are going to stand there looking at me."

Her office was on the mezzanine floor and Gibbs followed her up the stairs, pausing as she looked back over her shoulder to survey the bustle of activity below them. "So, what are they all doing?" He asked.

"We're supporting several community groups with grants, some of them are based here; we own the building outright so we can offer them a very low rent for office space." He nodded, thinking of the group of pregnant woman he'd seen. "And we're developing a couple of programmes of our own."

"Like the writing workshop?"

"Yes, like that." She smiled a little, obviously surprised that he knew about that.

"This place suits you." He told her, impressed by what she had accomplished and by what it meant to her.

"Thank you." Those words held too many painful memories for him, especially from her. But he simply nodded, taking them at face value and followed her into the office.

As she led the way into her office Jenny's stomach was still fluttering from the way he had looked at her. There had been heat in that lingering gaze; a reminder of how she'd felt when they'd made love. As hurt as she had been by the way things had ended she knew that the man she'd fallen in love with had been formed by his experiences, by his losses, just as she'd been influenced by what had happened to her. It made it hard to stay angry with him.

"You really giving all your money away?" He asked, thinking back to what Natalie had said.

"As much as I can, I'm not going to starve Jethro, Natalie won't allow that. There's a substantial family trust fund I have no intention of touching." She picked up some papers from her desk and leafed through them; "it's money from the sale of the business and the house."

"You sold the family mansion as well?"

"It was too big for one person." She pointed out, "and I wanted a fresh start. I kept a cottage, somewhere to run away to when I need a break from the city and I have an apartment near here."

"Jen," he began, running out of words when she looked up at him.

"I'm all right," she told him, letting him off the hook because she could see that he was tired and strained and she had no wish to add to his burdens.

"I can see that." He didn't know if she was being strong because it was what she thought he needed to hear, or because it was the truth. He wished he could ask her straight out, and yet he wasn't sure he could stomach the idea that she might not be hurting as much as he was. But of course that wasn't his stye.

"But I miss you," her whisper answered his question and told him something else, something that made his heart stutter and warmth creep into his eyes.

"I should have told you," he told her gently – meaning it, even though he wasn't good at admitting his mistakes.

"What happened to your family is no one's business but yours." He had clung to his privacy for years, only reluctantly sharing his pain. But it had been different with Jenny, though they had only spent a few days together they had shared a great deal in that time. He knew their intimacy had been more than physical.

"I should have told _you_," he repeated, stepping close and giving into the temptation to bury his hand in her hair and gently unfasten it. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and he heard the gentle hitch in her breathing.

"Jenny," he murmured, his eyes asking for the second chance he wasn't sure he deserved, asking her to believe in his ability to reconcile his past with his present and to hold to that faith when his own confidence faltered.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, biting her lip as she saw the sincerity in his expression. She cupped his cheek with her hand, hardly needing to take a moment to think about it. These last months had been busy, filled with activity and change – but her bed had been cold and empty and the only man she had wanted beside her had placed himself off limits.

"We are who we are," she told him. She knew that neither of them could change what had happened in their past and how those events had shaped them. They would have to find a way to live with that and there was no certainty that they would succeed.

When he nodded his understanding she pulled him closer and her lips brushed against his. His impatience got the better of him and the kiss deepened at his instigation. She groaned a little as his tongue darted between her lips and only the knowledge that they were in her office, which had a window that looked over the rest of the floor, stopped her from taking it further.

She pulled back and rested her forehead against his, catching her breath. "What are you doing this weekend?" He asked.

"I have no idea."

"Because I know this little place, in Georgia." Her eyes went wide as she realised that he was offering to take her back to the Inn. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

* * *

Tony hid a grin when they eventually emerged from the office and headed back downstairs. Somehow Jenny's hair seemed to have come down and he considered that, along with her faint blush and swollen lips, to be definitive proof that she had been pretty thoroughly kissed.

He shared a quick look with Ellie, who had already brought him up to speed on the office gossip. She'd told him that Jenny had been working hard these last few months and definitely not seeing anyone, something that her younger colleagues found difficult to believe. Though judging by how close Gibbs was standing to her, everyone would definitely get the message that she was seeing someone now.

The boss looked happier, though with Gibbs it was often impossible to tell. Tony suspected he had put himself through the emotional wringer these last few months and even now he couldn't believe that a man as proud and stubborn as Gibbs had come here and managed to reconcile with a woman he had all but walked away from. It said a lot about her that she'd taken him back, there was a bravery in that decision that had him rooting for them.

Gibbs' hand was resting very low on Jenny's back – almost too low, though Tony thought that if he were in Gibbs' place he'd definitely be tempted to – ow! "Sorry boss," he rubbed his head, knowing that his thoughts had been all too transparent.

"Call Ziva or McGee and get one of them to pick you up," Gibbs said.

"OK – er, where will you be?"

Gibbs looked over at Jenny, who nodded, "going to be in Georgia for the weekend – maybe another day or so." Tony could practically hear Abby cheering at the news and he was happy about it himself, though that didn't mean he wanted to be the one to explain.

But Gibbs and Jenny were already on their way out of the door, too wrapped up in each other to worry about details such as who needed to be told about their impromptu vacation. In fairness he recognised that Jenny was in charge and so could arrange her own time, or her assistant could. Technically the team wasn't on call this weekend; which didn't mean they hadn't been expecting to work.

"Er boss," he trailed after them, hoping that Gibbs was in a forgiving mood.

"What DiNozzo?"

"What shall I tell the Director?" Gibbs rolled his eyes at the question and seemed to bite back a suggestion – instead he looked over at Jenny, almost smiling; which was a danger signal if ever Tony had seen one.

"Tell him it's a belated honeymoon," he offered, putting his arm around Jenny's shoulders and ambling off with her.

Tony buried his head in his hands and hoped the boss was joking.

"You think he'll figure it out?" Jenny asked as they headed to the car.

"If he's any kind of investigator."

"So, do I get to pack some clothes this time, or will we be buying them en route again?" When he didn't reply, merely tilted his head and looked at her she shook her head. "I will need clothes Jethro."

The End

**A/N** – first of all thank you for all the reviews, I really appreciate them even if I don't reply or PM lots of people. An especial thanks to those of you who would have been happy if I had ended it at the last chapter. I have to admit to being very tempted to do so, but what really persuaded me to add the epilogue was my desire to complete _this_ Jenny's journey towards becoming a somewhat more recognisable figure.

I have to say that I think I've really pushed the boundaries of AU ness here – because Jenny was very different. At times I've worried that I'd stripped her of all that made her who she was and in fact the character I was writing could have been any original character. I am still not sure that isn't what I've done but – it's a huge thanks to Ellie that this fic was ever finished. And now that it is… well, there has to be a reaction. Get ready for a pretty dark Jen in Dusk and Shadows (shameless plug for my next AU).


End file.
